In the face of entrenched prejudice and misunderstanding about disabilities and the people who live with them, we have to start somewhere. I’ve chosen to start by telling my story, with its contradictions, over and over and over.
Me Before You tells three particularly damaging stories about life with a disability.
Posted on May 9th, 2016 in chronic pain
, David A. Kessler
, Jan Hoffman
, New York Times
, Will Hutton
On April 21, when my alarm clock radio blasted “Raspberry Beret” at 5:30 a.m., I let it play for a minute before turning the radio off. The familiar tune was an unexpectedly pleasant start to my day. Several hours later, I learned that Prince, the musical genius behind that song and so many others, was [Read More...]
We can help people understand what it means to live with a disability without shining too bright a beam on someone else's life story—particularly when that someone is a child either incapable of giving consent or of understanding the long-term implications of having his or her worst, most painful, and most vulnerable moments preserved online.
When an early Easter will likely dawn gray and cold, snow still on the ground and kids still sniffling, when our colorful Easter clothes will be hidden under damp wool and dingy down jackets, when the earth’s transformation from winter to spring will appear only tentatively, obscured, then what of our transformation? Perhaps an early Easter is a truer reflection of how resurrection usually manifests, faltering and barely noticeable—a slightly higher slant of light, a whiff of damp soil carried on a chill wind, a patch of grass at the yard’s edge where the snow has begun to melt. I am desperate these days for transformation, for obvious and spectacular change in body, mind, and spirit. Especially body. But tenuous and equivocal transformation may be the best I can get.