Sunday, April 15

My precious disability

I haven't talked much about my narcolepsy here. I wanted this blog to be about sleep not me, but yet I shouldn't be afraid to talk about my relationship with sleep. Sleep is awesome in so many ways but , (Deep breath)I'm not going act like it doesn't disable me. So when I ran across Disability Bitch I realized that being candid about my condition can be really liberating.

In her colum on BBC's Ouch, a website for modern people living with disabilities, Disability Bitch takes on "miracle cures." I really loved reading this:

Yes, I HATE MIRACLE CURES, and not just because I take pride in my little crippled identity and don't want to be a boring old normal and all that stuff.

This is so how I feel about my condition. Yeah it sucks, I won't deny that, but at least I know about the obstacles I have to overcome. And I don't have to make up some rags to riches story to make it seem like I have earned my privilege - but that's another subject.

You see, every bloody time the newspapers run a story about some tragic cripple being cured by some amazing new treatment, everyone who bumps into me in the street assumes it's only a matter of hours before I, too, will be saved from my hideous disabled existence in favour of a lifestyle less offensive to the world at large.

Amen, amen. Growing up Christian makes you the subject of prayers and laying of hands and all kinds of things that, frankly, I didn't want. My condition is hidden from strangers so I don't have the same type of story Bitch does, but I'm able to relate to her nevertheless.

Her rant takes a bit of a twist when she tells us about a neighbor that decided to stage a fundraiser to fly Bitch to the US where there is supposed to be a doctor that can cure her "little spasticated limbs".
He said I might even come back walking like him.

Readers, I ran home and locked the door tight. I don't envisage myself coming out until the rest of the human race has died.