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.

1 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.”


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