The last four posts were written in response to historical criticism and questions I have fielded as a mom of a person with a disability. Not everyone who observes our situation weighs in with criticism, but enough have done so over the years to make me reflexively defend my actions to potential naysayers. From her well-intentioned classmates... Continue Reading →
She stayed at school. Wrapping the ribs stabilized her enough to make her comfortable when she moved. She was able to get herself to a sitting position with much less pain, and even transferred herself between chairs. Sitting up for long periods still isn't fun, but she figured she could manage lying down when needed... Continue Reading →
Personal care matters tell the tale. She sat up most of the day and felt good, except when she laughed. That elicited a wince, and required that she lie down. Attempting a shower, we saw exactly what positions caused the most pain, and realized that she will need assistance with bathing and toileting for at... Continue Reading →
My dreams of chilling in my daughter's dorm room and watching Gilmore Girls were dashed by the constant parade of friends and classmates in and out of her room. So far today, there have been eight visitors to this 12X13 room, some of whom have stayed and studied (kind of) and eaten meals and told... Continue Reading →
When I talk about my daughter having a disability, I get a lot of sad faces, murmurs of morose sympathy, and sorrowful eyes averted, so as not to look directly at the reality of being disabled. It's the last one that I wish I could fix. I don't care if people have pity, and I would... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 