Of Disability and Proust

I threw my back out this afternoon. How many times have I done this? And how many times have I had to say it? My back IS my blindness; tension is deep in my muscles. Not seeing produces headaches, aches in the supraspinatus, brings on foul moods. Now I can barely tie my shoes.

When you have a disability, whether visible or invisible, sympathetic effects happen. One gets used to it. The “it” a ratcheting down of the day. How many afternoons did I spend as a child, crippled by tension headaches, hearing others play outside? The gone days are familiar to disabled folks.

In grade school, junior high, and high school I used to have to go to the nurse’s office to lie down. The surplus military blankets were so entirely familiar that I can smell them to this day.

Odor of backaches long remembered.

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

One thought on “Of Disability and Proust”

  1. Your words help me to better understand my daughter.This: “the gone days are familiar to disabled folks.”

    Like

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