I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t sell my soul for money. In a way, that’s what my job as a professional disability advocate and writer is: Mining my life as a resource for content to monetize, whether directly or indirectly. Is the net result adding good to…
Columns
School is out in my area, and summer has officially started! Living with SMA means that my independence is made possible through a network of practical, daily support from friends in my community, and caregiving is woven into nearly every part of my life. My volunteer caregiving schedule…
I sometimes experience an unexpected blast into the past. For example, if the weather has just the right balance of sunshine and crispness, I’m back in elementary school, around Thanksgiving, playing chase with my brother and our visiting cousins around the schoolyard across the street or the alley next door,…
I’m at a point in my life where I’m highly convinced I’m going to die single and a virgin. That may sound dramatic to some people, but for many disabled adults, it’s a thought that quietly lingers in the background more often than anyone realizes. We live…
Like most humans in the world, I do not like to cry in front of other people. My life with SMA does not allow me a lot of grace to conceal my physical weaknesses and vulnerabilities. It is obvious to any random stranger that I cannot walk, and…
Note: This column describes the author’s experiences with Cymbalta (duloxetine), Prozac (fluoxetine), and Celebrex (celecoxib). Not everyone will have the same response to treatment. Consult your doctor before starting or stopping a therapy. After months of agony — and I mean agony — I finally decided to go off…
Note: This column describes the author’s own experiences with fentanyl and other pain medications. Not everyone will have the same response to treatment. Consult your doctor before starting or stopping a therapy. “You really know pain, huh?” someone asked me, eyes wide with concern. In response to their offering me…
My aunt, who doesn’t throw anything away, recently sent me an artifact from my childhood: a pink paper pamphlet titled “Meet Connie.” I was diagnosed with SMA type 2 when I was 18 months old and started using a power wheelchair when I was in first grade. Around the…
“You must have dropped the baby.” That sentence was one of the many knives flung at my mother’s chest when I was diagnosed with SMA. She was 24, barely an adult. I was a difficult pregnancy, born a full month before I was due. My birth would’ve been even…
Three months ago, my husband, Randy, and I adopted Ellie, a mama dog who had been at the rescue for four months. She arrived with six puppies, tending to another litter after hers were adopted. “Tending” might be a stretch. When we saw Ellie, her interim miniature charges…
