Disability. Handicapped. Disabled. Those words leave a bad taste in many people's mouths and minds.
People make comments (and I don't think they realize how offensive these comments are) such as "I would rather die than have your disability", "I could never live with a disability", "How can you live with your disability?"
And then these same people, without irony, say things like "You should rejoice in being disabled!" or "Your disability is a blessing!"
And then they turn around and ask just flat out stupid questions like "You're allowed to get married?" or "How much does your disability drain our economy?"
And then they turn around, again, and wonder why people with disabilities are on guard and don't give them health updates.
It's no wonder that many shy away from the disability label.
There's even a discussion on tudiabetes about T1 being a disability. There are comments were people are genuinely shocked that T1 is a disability. Umm...diabetic children wouldn't be able to have a 504 in the US if T1 weren't considered a disability.
The Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA) states that a disability is
But I can understand the confusion. I don't always feel disabled, even with T1. When my bg is 101 mg/dL, when I'm just hanging out, when I'm laughing and enjoying life, I don't feel disabled. I feel enabled.
But there are other times when I've been up all night dealing with highs or lows, when I have "my heart thinks we should randomly have a pulse of 300 right now" episodes, when depression takes control, when any of these problems wear me so thin that I don't feel human...I feel disabled. I feel broken.
I want to be comfortable in my own skin, but that requires being comfortable with all the imperfections, the disabilities, as well.
But there are two sides to this tango, each holding a gun to the other sides head. What about cures for all these disabilities? Should I hope for better cyborg parts, better medicine to make my disabilities easier, but they won't go away? Or should I hope for a cure? Am I comfortable enough in my broken body that I think of my disabilities like my hair (it's there, and sometimes there are bad days)? Or am I frustrated enough with all the medical problems that I'm willing to give up things that are apart of me?
Do I regret being disabled in all the ways I am? No. Am I over thinking this? Maybe.