Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Call Me Cruella

It always seems like such a good idea at the time. The merest hint of a good day and I go into 'take up your mat and walk' mode and decide, for the umpteenth time that I'm cured and should run a marathon. In half an hour, back to front and walking on my hands. Ah self delusion. It's a wonderful thing. More powerful even than chocolate.

Suitably deluded, stoned medicated, braced and with a requisite minimum of three trips to the loo before leaving the house I plugged in my headphones and stumbled off. It was like crip city out there. Perhaps we all emerge on a Wednesday afternoon responding to some hidden signal like er, the adipose or pajama clad chavs foraging for breakfast at closing time in corner shops. People with crutches and sticks were in abundant supply, the odd mark of privilege mobility scooter whizzed past and an attractive young woman deep in conversation with her boyfriend pushed herself along in what could only be an NHS provided wheelchair as it was far too heavy for her to manoeuvre. After wobbling at the side of the road whilst I waited for a gap in the traffic sufficient to allow me to stagger across I was grateful for the woman sat in her car waiting patiently whilst first the young girl pushed herself across then I took twice that time to weave and wobble across her drive.

My bright idea? After forgetting my pin number last week, the week beforeI forget when, causing the bank to lock my card, and yes, of course. I forgot that too. Anyway after lots of forgetfulness and no little embarrassment I needed to unlock my pin number at a cash point. As my patented theory of calories not counting if you can't remember consuming them could do with some work I figured the walk would mean I could comfortably forget tonight's chocolate as well as last night's.

I was right. It hurt. Whilst I'm on the subject I'd like to ask my elbow why it thought dislocating was an appropriate response to it's neighbour, my wrist dislocating? Inside it's specially constructed for me standard issue so it doesn't fit NHS wrist brace.

When I got to the cash point I was, to be blunt, fucked. Karmic revenge for the injuries I recently inflicted on the captain I suspect. The plan had been to sit down with a coffee/chocolate concoction and rest up with a broadsheet for a while in the cafe over the road from the cash point. Which was foiled by the cafe being closed. Apparently they'd been so busy they didn't have any clean dishes left!

As I'm getting really good acquainted with the concept of 'asking for help' I asked the cafe owner if they would mind if I just sat down at one of the outside tables for a few moments. I probably looked as I was feeling for within a minute a mug of tea was brought out to me. Though it offends me to be so cliched these sorts of everyday acts of kindness never fail to remind me how nice most people are when given the chance to be.

Later, I came home...and dropped my neighbour's 10 week old puppy. On it's head. Onto concrete. I suspect that kitty #2 vomiting all over the floor was her way of expressing disapproval. The puppy was too traumatised to think of that...or maybe it was just p'd off it had been dropped on it's head instead of the milk it had expected to receive by chewing on my breast.

So now...not only am I a penis breaker, I'm a dog crippler too.
These days we are all so used to hearing about the 'evil addicts' ruining our society it's easy to forget that each one is a person behind their addiction. These two posts written by MsO beautifully illustrate the impacts of addiction upon loved ones.

Monday, August 25, 2008

This is an interesting, if somewhat naive post about the process of claiming Job Seekers Allowance by Peter Cranie.

Come on, come on!

The Britblog Roundup 184 is up over at Amused Cynicism. Whilst reading through the comment linking to Jackart's post about Gary Glitter I noticed this comment from the author (AC not Jackart)

"Gadd may well be a bad person, but I’m sure that any harm he’s done to others is far less than that of The Sun with its corrosive drip, drip, drip of hate"

Likening the actions of a tabloid newspaper to that of a convicted paedophile is bizarre enough, but to say that a tabloid newspaper does more harm to others...well, it's a view point I suppose.

Perhaps the author would like to be forcibly buggered from the age of, ooh, I dunno, lets say 6, every week by their daddy/stepdaddy/next door neighbour. Make sure no-one intervenes, and everyone feigns equal ignorance 10 years later when the truth comes out. Then they might, just might be in a position to claim The Sun has done more damage than a convicted sex offender. But I rather suspect they'd be too busy trying to rebuild their shattered life than to make such ridiculously stupid sentiments. Even in Liverpool.

As I'm on a roll here...every time the BBC report on this issue they play one of Gary Glitter's 'hits' in the background, ironically on one occasion reporting how much Glitter earns a year in foreign royalties. I just hope that our licence money is not being used to pay royalties for this.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Goodnight, God Bless




Sticky topped glass bottles. Forever linked in my mind with the excitement and guilt of forbidden treats. Delivered by the milkman in green or blue crates, stored in the cool garage waiting for grandchildren to devour in a hyperactive orgy of sugar and additives, heralded by the longed for chink as the bottles clinked together.

He was the closest I had to a grandfather. My great uncle, married to my grandmother's younger sister. Even now, decades later when I see glass bottles of orange juice I think of him. All those years of birthday and Christmas cards with a crisp note tucked inside.

He was quite the catch as a young man, tall and handsome in his RAF uniform. Later a career in the bank would provide a comfortable lifestyle but things would never be easy.

There was a baby. Perhaps the first, perhaps not. Born too soon to survive in an attic bedroom more able to keep secrets than the people it housed. Mad with grief she hid the baby, and when discovered refused to let go. So in the end they took part of her brain to make her.

He was always there. Through years of institutions and barbaric abuse masquerading as medicine. He cared for the children they went on to have, for the sister in law fleeing her abusive husband. For her children. Somewhere along the way she fell in love with him too and perhaps he her. But he always stayed. Always cared.

requiescat in pace

Friday, August 22, 2008

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Click....thud

Thanks to The Jobbing Doctor for another insight into the struggles people have with the benefits system from the GP's point of view.

Surprise, Surprise!

Maatwerk, one of the job brokers supposed to be 'helping' disabled people into work as part of James Purnell's Arbeit Macht Frei policy is being investigated by the police for fraud after a DWP inquiry.

No surprises here then.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

American Insight

I'm laid up in bed with whatever lurgy is currently lodging in my immune system so no proper post. Instead a comment on a couple of articles I've seen about the American elections and how the different candidates are appealing specifically to disabled voters (or not as the case may be)

What I think is particularly relevant is the understanding that the disabled vote is a significant factor in these elections, something which doesn't seem to have been picked up by any of our domestic parties. Silly me, I must be in the grips of fever induced hallucinations, British politicians are all far too busy trying to target us as cheating scrounging scumbags to realise what the Americans have. The disabled vote matters.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Care Home Capers!

Perhaps there's something in that southern sea air? Cornwall seem to be one of the few places to recognise that disability, ill health and old age are no barrier to sexual desire and fantasies. Let's hope the rest of the world catches up soon, and the politically correct whiners shut the fuck up and stop spoiling all the fun!

90 year old woman served fish and chips by a waiter wearing a see through apron and thong


Four men with Huntingdon's enjoy night out at lapdancing club

As an aside I bet they were better behaved than my friend Ziggy who was recently evicted from such an establishment for vomiting all over one of the dancers. He's not allowed to go back...unlike these men

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Never Go Full Bigot



Thanks to Casdok

Social Work Monkeys

There has been a great deal of outrage within the disabled community about the (upcoming in the UK) film The Tropic of Thunder. Whilst I disagree with the viewpoint that certain words or phrases should be banned, instead believing that change will only come when we make such words too cool to be used as insults as other minority groups have done before us, it is wonderful to see our community, usually so disparate pulling together to take action. More, much more of the same is what we need to truly make a difference.

What is so disappointing but sadly also completely predictable is the attitude displayed on The Social Work blog in a post describing the upset about the film as "well worn" and that it (the upset) "doesn't seem worth the time of day".

Funny that from a blog so desperate to count it's own media mentions. In fact that pretty much sums up the problem with Social Workers as I've seen it. Completely obsessed with their own image and utterly disinterested in that of the people they pretend to represent.

Start as you mean to go on....

The new Downing Street website does not conform to the accessibility standards set by, guess who, the government themselves.

I'd say this bodes really well for the 1 million disabled people the government insist can be forced, sorry, helped into work. The only realistic way for many disabled people to enter the workplace is if they can work remotely, ie from home.
Now not only do the might as well piss the money into the wind, sorry, fantastic value for money Job Broker schemes not have any links to employers or ability to advise on homeworking, the government are leading the way by not even bothering to ensure their own website is accessible.

Via Dizzy

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Hysterical Paroxysms

Prompted by a comment I left elsewhere about vulvular massage as a treatment for hysteria I found this wonderful brief history of the vibrator . Invented in 1880 as a labour saving device for physicians with tired arms.
Fantastic!

Medical Mysteries

Steph at The Biopsy Report, friend and fellow bendy person has just posted this excellent insight into the issue of medical labelling.

Green blobby monster

I just wrote this as a comment here, but my stunning display of technical skill amused me enough to post it here.

In the er thingy above the box where you type your post, what is it called where all the lil symbols are?
Anyway, in that thingy there is a lil green blob which looks like a monster with teeth in between text colour and some straight lines.
Select the text you want to turn into a link, like click here, then Click on the green tooth monster and it'll give you a space to put your website addressy thing.
Impressed? I'm off to apply for a job in technical support ;) lol

Monday, August 11, 2008

In the eye of the beholder

The recent show Britain's Missing Top Model has challenged perceptions about disability and attractiveness perhaps for the first time in the main stream media, but away from the spotlight many of us confront those perceptions as part of our everyday lives.

After struggling for ages with what to say and how to say it, really it comes down to this. Disabled people are not supposed to be attractive. We equate looking physically attractive with qualities such as youth, vigour and good health, whereas disabled people are supposed to be tragic unattractive figures. Even better if they drool or lick windows too. We all know where we stand with that.

Of course it's not that simple. What is? Disabled people come in all shapes and sizes just like anyone else, and just like anyone else disabled people cover the whole spectrum of physical beauty. The difference with disability though is how that challenges our innate perceptions and fears.

People are afraid of disability and disease, almost as though some primal instinct to keep us safe from contagion is in operation. Fear breeds prejudice and confirms such negative perceptions by ensuring disability remains something slightly secretive and shameful, kept away from the mainstream where unfamiliarity continues to breed contempt.

Disabled people being physically beautiful challenges all those perceptions and forces us to think about issues we'd perhaps rather not. Instead of comfortably being able to see disabled people as on the margins of society, as less than equal objects of pity, looking at beautiful people who just happen to have disabilities confuses and forces the uncomfortable thought that disability can and does happen to everyone.

Once that thought is placed it's but a short step to many more unpalatable truths. The biggest one being just how far we all have to go before equality is even a tangible concept.



Sunday, August 10, 2008

Ehlers Danlos Video

Although this is a blog about life with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome I have realised it's lacking in details about EDS. This 5 minute video is taken from a full length documentary Medical Incredible and despite being somewhat sensationalised certainly reflects the frequency of dislocations someone with EDS as severe as myself or Ms Ordinaree would experience.


Friday, August 08, 2008

Bog Off! Exhibit 3, Bella Italia


Despite the loo roll being strewn around the base of the loo (kids or shagging couple I wonder?) this wasn't too bad an example of a disabled loo. Weirdly as I write that all I can think is that the loo is not disabled, perhaps it would like to take action via DDA I wonder. After all, it's not much use for anything else!

The staff however
were helpful, friendly and able to replenish the loo roll and the toilet itself was (unusually) clean. For once there was a fantastic mirror as seen in the second photo, well fantastic if you're not a wheelchair user that is, or in any way visually impaired as you might wonder which of the two toilets you were supposed to pee in.

I'd specially like to thank the teenage boy working as a chef both for alerting me to the fact that the meatballs come straight out of the freezer bagged with their sauce and the incredible concentration levels he displayed staring at my tits. Yes, I know they are fabulous but still. Eyes up!

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Still

completely knackered so in the absence of a proper post here is the link to the blog of my very fabulous real life friend and fellow bendy girl Ms Ordinaree


Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Apologies,

for the absence, the Captain has been home for a couple of days and funnily enough I'm now completely knackered! Back soon