Something happened today. It wasn’t earth-shattering. But it did help me understand more of the current conversation around having disabilities “erased” by the media and society.

I was in a public location. I found the two-stall restroom…one for disabled individuals, one for non-disabled  individuals. Both were occupied and one person was in line in front of me.

I had my service dog with me. I was toting my backpack with my IV medication in it. The people in the bathroom had just come from a meeting we were all attending.

The disabled stall became available. The person in line in front of me took it, leaving me the other stall. The one that wouldn’t fit both my service dog and me. One that I had to put my backpack in my lap just to use the toilet.

I put my dog into a stay just outside the stall. The non-disabled individual started talking loudly about the dog being loose in the bathroom. All I’m trying to do is take care of business.

Later, in the meeting room, our eyes met. There was no apology. Just a sort of condemnation in her eyes.

She could have waited the 20 seconds and taken the other stall. I guess I could have waited the two minutes to use the disabled stall. But….I really feel she should have been the one waiting. Courtesy. Giving the disabled person the space to take care of business would have been the right thing to do.

For those who take the time to read this, and don’t “need” to use the disabled stall, please consider who else may be waiting. Sure, everyone would like the stalls to be larger. Some of us NEED the larger stalls. Be courteous. Thank you.

Editor’s note: This is a true story. No allegory intended.

Youngest took a summer internship at our local zoo. It’s been two weeks and every day we learn more about the animals she is responsible for supervising. Today, even though giraffes and lions are her assigned area, she was helping out in the American porcupine exhibit.

One of the porcupines (there are 2) recently had surgery and is on “vet watch.” This entails a keeper having eyes on the porcupine all day long. It turns out that this particular porcupine likes to stick his paws in crevices.  And he gets stuck…alot. Her job was to get him unstuck.

The porcupine also enjoys climbing trees like a sloth instead of like a porcupine. He gets stuck about three feet off the ground. The keeper is supposed to go tap on his claws to remind him to move. Hold that thought….

As Youngest is sitting in the rain, making sure the porcupine doesn’t get stuck, a zoo patron comments to his young son about  the “intern in the wild.” Youngest wears a shirt that boldly states “INTERN” across the back. Another patron comes by and asks her if she’s worried about “being shot” by quills. Youngest, in her nicest voice, informs the patron that according to the information sign RIGHT THERE, porcupines do not actually shoot quills. Besides, she has heavy-duty work gloves just in case she has to handle the porcupine.

As youngest relates this story, she keeps referring to the porcupine as “naughty.” Hence, the naughty porcupine. Ah, the joys of the animal kingdom.

Nobody likes being scammed. Knowing that someone has told you a story that is not entirely true in order to convince you to give them money leaves us all feeling angry and insulted. Rightly so. We …

Source: Be(a)ware

Stressed out, running late, racing down the interstate
Spilled hot coffee, down the front of my jeans
It’s work, work, pay the rent, money and my time’s spent
Not a minute left for me to be me~ Kenny Chesney, Live a Little

Today, Eldest turns 23. Three months ago, she left home for a job. We expected this since becoming employed is the end goal of attending college. Still, it’s a bit quiet around here.

Now she’s building her own life in a little town in the middle of nowhere USA. She works the late shift, comes home, sleeps, trains her dog, and does it over again. In between there are grocery runs and a few other errands. She’s active on social media and is working on keeping her language skills up in hopes of landing a better job. And she reads. Lots.

Today I hope she will be able to take a few minutes for herself. Just do nothing. I’m not sure the dog will cooperate, so he may need to be included. Take a small piece of time and just breathe. Think about how much you’ve done and not worry about how much is left to do. Be proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Try not to get wrapped up in things so you can’t enjoy those few moments.

Bask. Yes, bask. Ten years ago you were getting ready to start high school. Blink and here you are. Twenty-three years ago you didn’t even know your name. It sure goes fast when you look at how time moves. I love every minute of being your Mom.

Here’s to you. To new adventures. To taking a moment to be amazed by yourself. To savor all that has passed. To dream about what is to come. To take a few minutes away from rushing around and just breathe.

And then, eat chocolate. Love you!

Well, the day has come again. People in several disability communities I’m part of on a social media site have started discussing what does disabled mean. It’s not the first time. I wrote about this here: The Disability Card and here: Orphan Zebra.

Today is different. Maybe it’s because I’ve had several heart to hearts with my care team recently. Those complicated discussions where the doctors try to convince me that when I push myself, I only make myself sicker while I argue that pushing myself is what is expected as I’m not disabled. Then the doc runs through all the things they are providing support for me. I guess the day is finally here.

People look at me and don’t see disabled. I work very hard to be non-disabled, so on the days people see me “normal” they have no idea what it took to get there. Of course, I only leave the house 4-5 days a week because the rest of the time I’m trying to get “better” enough to look normal. It’s a daily decision on whether I’ll make it out of the house.

I think the hardest part is I’m still of working age and have the education to be employed. I should be working, or so I feel. I’m just not sure there are any employers who understand why I have so many doctor appointments. Or why I’m dragging at work. Or how can I be sick….again. I’ve worked for employers who can’t see past disabilities whether they be temporary like the flu or permanent like mine. There is discrimination, both subtle and outright. The last few jobs I interviewed for, I was asked about my disability in a very roundabout fashion. Oh, they are careful not to ask outright and I do my best to answer truthfully without shooting myself in the foot. But, I can’t help but wonder if I’m not getting the job after the interviews because of disability. What if I’m equally qualified as a non-disabled person? Who would you choose?

So today at an appointment, my insulin pump fell out of my pocket. I now have quieter infusion pumps in the backpack, but you can still see the IV line running under my shirt. My service dog alerted during the appointment. I lost my train of thought because I was dealing with the alert. Fortunately, this was not an interview. It’s really hard to overlook these things.

So, to the guy who told me I was using a handicapped spot I didn’t need; the person who exclaims “you don’t look disabled!” and the surprised looks I get when my service dog comes out from under the table….leave me alone. You have just walked in on chapter 47 of my life. You don’t know how I got here or what my future holds.

To those online personalities who try to define disability, just stop. Disability is individual. In some cases, one aspect of a life is affected. In others, it is multiple aspects. It’s not a contest. It’s not a game. It’s life and all I want is to live it the best way I can.