A woman I know that has a service dog told me a strange and
disturbing story the other day. She was
at the grocery store and a woman in the store came up to her and told her how
lucky she is to be disabled. Yeah,
really. The woman said she’d always been
envious of the “preferential treatment” the disabled get, like better parking
places, disability payments so they don’t have to work, service dogs and
wheelchairs. She said she didn’t
necessarily want to have a disability but would love to have all the “perks”
that come with it.
Never mind the fact that the woman she was talking to, the
one shopping with her service dog, does work.
She has a fulltime job. I’m sure
she gets many other perks, just like all disabled people do, right?
Oh yes, the many perks of being disabled.... like the
opportunity to try to figure out how to live on the little bit of money I get
from Social Security, that's a fun one.
And the excitement of all my many, many medical
appointments. Why, Monday I get to make the 90 minute drive to the
Cleveland Clinic to discuss with the doctor the procedure I had a couple weeks
ago where they stuck really large needles in my back. That was great
fun! And the doctor is going to give me a referral to physical therapy, for
which I will get to drive one hour there and one hour back three times a
week. It's great to get to sit in all these doctors' waiting rooms reading
old magazines and spend my little bit of disability money on gas for the car
for all these fun trips. I am lucky indeed!
The insomnia that comes with my PTSD affords me all sorts of perks, as well. For instance, I get to be awake to watch the most fascinating infomercials on TV in the middle of the night. I'm sure people that actually get to sleep more than three or four hours a night are sorry they miss those.
The dissociation and disorientation is great, too. For instance, the fact that I usually have no clue where my car is when I come out of a store allows me the chance to get a lot of exercise, walking up and down the rows in the parking lot looking for my car. That's especially enjoyable in the rain. Not only is the exercise a great perk, but if it's raining hard enough, I can just skip my shower for the day and rinse off while I look for the car! It comes in so handy.
Of course, all the meds I'm on are a nice benefit of being disabled. I mean, some people have to spend lots of money and go visit questionable characters in bad parts of town to obtain pain medications. All I had to do was injure my back badly enough that a couple of disks bulge way out of place and push on some nerves. Then my doctor was happy to prescribe pain meds and my insurance covers them. Of course, I spend a fair amount of my disability pay for that insurance, but still...
And don't forget all the little vacations I've gotten to take to various psych units. There I enjoy deluxe accommodations (semi-private rooms with rather uncomfortable beds), delicious meals (doesn't everyone love hospital food?), and fun-filled activities like stress management group and bingo. It's especially fun when I get to spend the holidays there. Hospitals serve such yummy Christmas dinners, you know.
With so many perks to be had, makes me wonder why everyone doesn't go out and injure their backs and endure something that will cause them to develop PTSD.
The insomnia that comes with my PTSD affords me all sorts of perks, as well. For instance, I get to be awake to watch the most fascinating infomercials on TV in the middle of the night. I'm sure people that actually get to sleep more than three or four hours a night are sorry they miss those.
The dissociation and disorientation is great, too. For instance, the fact that I usually have no clue where my car is when I come out of a store allows me the chance to get a lot of exercise, walking up and down the rows in the parking lot looking for my car. That's especially enjoyable in the rain. Not only is the exercise a great perk, but if it's raining hard enough, I can just skip my shower for the day and rinse off while I look for the car! It comes in so handy.
Of course, all the meds I'm on are a nice benefit of being disabled. I mean, some people have to spend lots of money and go visit questionable characters in bad parts of town to obtain pain medications. All I had to do was injure my back badly enough that a couple of disks bulge way out of place and push on some nerves. Then my doctor was happy to prescribe pain meds and my insurance covers them. Of course, I spend a fair amount of my disability pay for that insurance, but still...
And don't forget all the little vacations I've gotten to take to various psych units. There I enjoy deluxe accommodations (semi-private rooms with rather uncomfortable beds), delicious meals (doesn't everyone love hospital food?), and fun-filled activities like stress management group and bingo. It's especially fun when I get to spend the holidays there. Hospitals serve such yummy Christmas dinners, you know.
With so many perks to be had, makes me wonder why everyone doesn't go out and injure their backs and endure something that will cause them to develop PTSD.
Yeah. Apparently it's not too uncommon for people to make comments like "You are so lucky to get to take your dog everywhere with you" but this is the first time I've heard of someone saying "You are so lucky to be disabled." Although I remember reading something once that was written by a guy that used a wheelchair and he said that he'd had strangers tell him he was lucky to have a wheelchair because it must be nice to get to sit down all the time. Apparently some people don't think at all before they speak.
ReplyDeleteI can't believe that the woman looked at disabilities in that manner. Having a disability means that a person is lacking something, which tramples his everyday life. It's never easy to live a normal life knowing that you have a disability. That's why we give them “perks” to lessen their struggle. Through these perks and benefits, we make them (those with disabilities) feel loved, important and recognized.
ReplyDeleteHaving a disability doesn't necessarily mean someone is lacking something. It just means they aren't able to do certain things the same way most people are.
DeleteI don't think we give people with disabilities perks at all. We give them accommodations, meaning we make adjustments to things for them so that they can do the same kinds of things people without disabilities can do. We don't make accommodations so they will feel loved, important, or recognized. For instance, someone with a physical disability that cannot walk very far gets a handicapped tag for their car so they can park close to the door. We don't give them a handicapped tag so they'll feel loved or important. We give them the handicapped tag so they can go to the grocery store, just like people without disabilities can go to the store.
Now, some people might feel loved and important because they have a handicapped tag for their car, I don't know. Having a service dog doesn't make me feel loved or important. Well, I feel loved by Isaac, but I'd feel that whether he was my service dog or just a pet. But I don't feel extra loved or important when I take Isaac to the grocery store with me. I just feel like a person that is able to go grocery shopping, which is good since I like to be able to eat.
Being on disability, on Medicare, on Medicaid, or getting subsidized housing doesn't make me feel loved or important, either. In fact, those things often make me feel less important than other people, since people on Medicaid often have to go to clinics where patients aren't treated as well as patients with insurance get treated at the offices of doctors in private practice and subsidized housing isn't as nice as the apartments I was able to afford when I was able to work.