Facing the Fleshmovers
1990; University of Social Welfare and Rehabilitation Sciences; Volume: 56; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês
ISSN
0022-4154
Autores Tópico(s)Disability Rights and Representation
ResumoHe knew if she really wanted to, she could do Slowly, the attractive woman pulled herself out of her eyebrows arched upward, legs wobbily and heart palpitating. The man who loved her had tears in his eyes but a smile on his face. She faltered, limped haltingly to him, and did indeed walk. It didn't matter that her spinal cord was severed or that she had been a wheelchair user for twenty years, she had walked into the arms of her loved one. How many times have we, the disabled, seen this scenario in everything from movies of the week to romance novels? We've cringed inside, rolled our eyes, and frankly gotten nauseous at the sheer silliness of The old cliche, right? An epidural abscess raged in my spinal canal twenty-two years ago. At the pivotal age of sixteen, a complete paraplegic, acquired my first graduated vocational rehab a clerk/typist, vegetated for awhile at home, then met a guy thought could love. He was a professional, treated me with respect, and like me, loved the simplest things in life. However, what attracted me the most was an attitude was warned against from the time first sat down so long ago. From disabled activists to athletes and advocates, one necessity for a successful relationship was drummed into my head; had to be accepted as is. The man loved couldn't accept me a sit down artist twenty-four hours a day. It was the little things that drove him crazy. He missed being able to put his arm around my waist when we conversed at parties in those little semicircles of standing people. Holding my hand we walked, walking on a beach or trail, talking eye to eye, in fact, my merely being four feet tall all of the time seemed to weigh on him. Yet one thing separated him from other men had dated. In lieu of the non-acceptance speech and rejection, or worse, the I never see the chair when see you, darling nonsense, five words came out of his mouth that had never heard spoken to me before. He simply said, Let's do something about it. had been an activist for quite some time, lobbying to bring the reality of equal access before the law to my rural community. My nomenclature had evolved long ago. wasn't confined to a wheelchair, was a rider, a wheeler, a person with special needs, and my all time favorite: a physically challenged individual. was proud to be a survivor but was never made aware what part of my peace of mind was the result of the brilliance of my acting ability, not true acceptance, until confronted in an innocent, romantic way by my boyfriend. One evening, he put our favorite country and western tune on the stereo and asked me to dance. For a brief moment, felt like a little fifteen-year-old at her first prom. could swing a mean step with my chair but he didn't want that. He stood me up with my feet flat on the floor, pressed his knees gently against mine, took a firm grip on my butt, and there was. only weighed about 118 and after all these years, there was still muscle in my legs. H e swayed me back and forth taking tiny steps, slow dancing for the next twenty minutes. He was merely acting like a lower body brace, but with my head on his shoulder, was in fantasy land. was five feet ten and three quarter inches tall again and quite simply had forgotten what the view was like from up there. Arm in arm, (with him walking a little funny, of course) we started down this road. We began by spending the next year, off and on, studying spinal cord injury (SCI) and gathering information solely from injured people. Sifting through everything from exercise programs to electric walking, (Functional Electrical Stimulation; (FES) we found one indisputable fact. No one injured above the level of T-12 (just below the waist) functioned an independent walking person whether utilizing braces, crutches, or FES therapy. Undaunted, we concluded that a new brace called a reciprocating gait orthosis (RGO) might be the ticket. …
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