Columns

If you’ve perused my columns in the past, you’ll know I’m a big advocate for teaching children about disabilities. As a woman in a wheelchair who looks different from the average person, I’ve been the subject of glaring stares, mind-boggling comments, and the occasional finger-pointing from children. That…

One of my favorite discoveries during my family’s recent vacation on St. Simons Island was the Georgia Sea Turtle Center on neighboring Jekyll Island. The center rehabilitates sea turtles and local wildlife in need of medical care so they can be released back into their natural…

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” I don’t know if this adage has retained its clout from my early school days, but surely it’s still familiar. It came in handy — sorta — when I was in elementary school. During a routine game…

Late last year, I embarked on an unexpected journey to self-discovery. The past several years had been an uphill battle with my health, each day bringing its own relentless fight. The good news was that I was surviving whatever conditions came my way. The bad news was that I…

Those of us who live with a disability that severely limits our motor skills find ourselves continually depending on others for assistance. In addition to essential daily tasks, we need assistance with seemingly mundane activities like painting one’s nails or trimming a beard. We rely on family members or…

When you’re living with SMA, you quickly learn that you cannot function without someone else’s help. One of my earliest memories is of a nurse telling me that she’d asked doctors to remove my nasogastric tube for me. I must’ve been 3 at the time. My parents weren’t…

On a rainy day in April, I write the final words of my third novel: “The End.” If you follow me on social media, you’ll know this book has not been without its hiccups. I won’t get into the nitty-gritty of it, largely because I chronicled everything on Substack,…

When I was a little girl, I loved searching for dandelions at the first sign of spring. My mother would pick one off the ground for me, and I’d excitedly use all my strength and breath to remove the fluffy seed ball, or blowball, from the stem. One by one,…