I have not posted at Bad Cripple in a long time. This labor of love has likely come to an end. It is 4am here in Denver. I am deeply depressed. Worse, I do not care. For 40 years I have been passionate about disability rights and scholarship. Both fields have passed me by and left me in the dust. I have no work. I have no prospects of work. I have no place in disability rights. In this dark night I am ready to slip into an abyss.
Yesterday I was at wound care. A relatively minor wound has blossomed into a deep and potentially life threatening wound. I knew, indeed I have always known, one of these wounds would kill me. I am not critically ill yet. It is possible I will recover. The road for me however is going to be long and painful. My quality of life is absent. I cannot sit. I cannot go out. I cancelled all plans for six months. I have nothing to look forward to. My day is spent on the phone, mostly on hold, with bored disinterested people who work for a health insurance company. They inform me why nothing is covered. The hospital I visit subsequently sends the bill to bill collectors who call me me all day long demanding payment. The physician I see provides solid medical advice. But like all wound care physicians ignored are the realities of life. Pain is never addressed. Depression and mental health are not discussed. Cost of dressings is not addressed.
For 40 plus years I have banged my head against the wall and demanded to be a treated with respect. This has been largely fruitless and yielded insignificant results. Academic professional organizations remain openly hostile to disabled scholars. My fancy Ivy League credentials got me nowhere. As I sit here in bed in the dark typing into my phone I am faced with the realization my life has been an utter failure. This breaks my heart. I wanted to make a difference in the world.
I have no idea if I will post here again. I do know I will not leave this apartment for at least two weeks. Under the best of circumstances it will be months before I can sit up. The worst case scenario is a clinical cascade that will slowly and methodically end my life. Most dangerously I am okay with that. Yes, I feel that defeated. We live in a draconian world where health care is for the well insured and abled population. My crippled ass need not apply. Social supports are largely non existent. I am what I am--a drain on limited economic and social resources in a capitalistic society driven to win and profit. About the best thing I can say is that I really tried. I tried to be a good man, a good father, a good son to my parents, a good writer, teacher and scholar. I had various shades of success and failure. For now it is time to withdraw from society and others. What the future holds here and in life remains unknown. It is thus with a heavy heart I say goodbye to those who cared enough to read my many posts over the years.
Paralyzed since I was 18 years old, I have spent much of the last 30 years thinking about the reasons why the social life of crippled people is so different from those who ambulate on two feet. After reading about the so called Ashley Treatment I decided it was time to write a book about my life as a crippled man. My book, Bad Cripple: A Protest from an Invisible Man, will be published by Counter Punch. I hope my book will completed soon.
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Wednesday, November 28, 2018
Posted by william Peace at 3:36 AM 17 comments:
PhD 1992 in anthropology Columbia University, I am interested in disability rights and bioethics.
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