I've decided, as I try to find "normal" in my life,while things remain better but still stressful and while Stu remains hospitalized, to try to post to this blog a little more often. I've got some of my ability to concentrate back. And as I've had a wealth of experience, especially over the last eight plus months in dealing with being one of the disabled universe, I thought I'd post the occasional post about being disabled, using a wheelchair, tings you might not know about disability, you know, the stuff I've talked about off and on for years. It happens to be something I'm an expert at - being disabled and living in an able-bodied world. I hope it will be interesting.

A couple basics:
I use "crip" because I'm a "MOT" (Member of the Tribe). If you know me well enough to read this, you can too. At least around me. But be careful where you use it otherwise. I know, you know this, right?

For the record, I am disabled. I do not wish to be referred to (or thought of if you can deal) as handicapped, differently-abled or please gods no, physically challenged. There are lots of words to describe what I am not. I don't like euphemisms, and I don't like the sort of thinking that making a positive out of a negative is a good idea and makes everything better. Calling it a challenge, or making it seem like an inconvenience is misleading and demeans people with serious disabling conditions. It's hard to live in the world. It's a negative. Being disabled is tough.

Let's not kid ourselves. The passage of federal legislation, the creation of everything from curb cuts to lift-equipped vehicles to assistive listening devices is terrific. But trust me, it does not level the freaking playing field. We still can't run the bases. There are so many times that I breath a sigh of relief that I live in the 21st Century, that I have access to an amazing list of medications and devices and designs that ensure I have an active, real life, that I'm not stuck in a back room, in severe pain, unable to function in the world. But like any other "liberation" movement, things don't go "poof" and all is not instantly well. Just because the Americans With Disability Act exists, does not mean I can get into that card store with the narrow aisles. Even though federal law dictates that I am entitled to access to that restaurant, that bar, that store, that hair salon, I may not actually be able to go down the aisles, get to the shelves, reach the counter, eat my lunch. ADA is not magic. There are exceptions, there is ignorance, there is laziness. A place that once remembered to keep the entrance clear is now cluttering it up with bins and displays that block the door. Drugstores and supermarkets put more and more items in front of other items, hanging off shelves and racks, making it impossible to reach merchandise, or even see what is in the case. See my blog post in October about how accessible bathrooms often aren't. Just because there's a little wheelchair logo thingy does not mean that the designers understood what they were supposed to do. ("In Case Anyone Was Wondering" http://www.journalscape.com/Hedgehog/2012-10-27-11:17)

So tonight's opinion. Decorative, textured crosswalks suck the big one. Sidewalks made with small concrete blocks suck the medium one. I get the reason for the latter (access to the infrastructure below is easier) but they still reek. Here's why.

I live with major chronic pain. I use a wheelchair everywhere I go. Wheelchairs are great devices, mine has a substantially well-designed thick seat cushion. But wheelchairs don't have shock absorbers, don't have a system to cushion against jarring. Crossing the street where the pavement is scored to seem like brick causes me pain. It is jarring. It makes my chair bounce over a very bumpy path and that hurts my very messed up, fragile hips. I am bounced around in ways that hurt my back, my shoulders, and more. Depending on where I am, I veer out of the crosswalk to avoid the discomfort of trying to cross the street.

I'm sure there are good reasons for these crosswalks. Wait. No, I take it back. I am not sure that I believe there is a good reason for these crosswalks. Some years ago, on a street very near me, a sidewalk was repaved with scoring to look like brick. I cannot use that sidewalk. It was not done when the other side of the street replaced its sidewalk. I want it gone. I understand and support the use of texture and color to assist any and all people with low-vision, but I am not convinced that bumpy, rough, hard to deal with surfaces are what they want either.

I spent several weeks visiting Stu up in the Northgate neighborhood of Seattle in the fall, dealing daily with miserable crosswalks that caused me discomfort. I deal with them near my house and downtown. *WHINE ALERT* It's not fair. Going out, doing stuff, having a life should not add to the difficulty of living with chronic pain and disability. And yet, the stuff is everywhere. Did anyone ever run the idea, the design, the texture, the surface by folks who use wheelchairs? Did it ever occur to them that there was a segment of the population that would not appreciate this rough ride?

Next time, I'll talk about either "You and your curbcut" or "Riding the bus. Have you got what it takes?"

Thanks for listening.