Aha… I’ve got a juvenile biology question that I don’t think has been asked, can you believe it?
Do you fart?
My guess would be yes, but that you can’t control it? Is that awkward, socially?
The only possibly, remotely, pit-worthy thing in your response is your “wishy-washiness” on taking a firm and explicit political stance 
You will find that it is not the Doper way to mince words on these issues! Actual knowledge of the issue not required, and sometimes considered a liability… 
Often wrong, but never uncertain! 
I was wondering if he could have “falsies” made of some sort of foam or gel, sort of like insoles for shoes but, of course, of a different thickness and shape? I do know that places like Frederick’s of Hollywood sell actual butt falsies but they’re sized/shaped for women, not to mention sewn into panties, which leads me to think they wouldn’t be particularly well suited to Ambivalid’s size and shape but the concept might be workable.
If a padding arrangement is worked out BEFORE tissue damage occurs I’m assuming there will be a greater range of materials that could be used, hopefully some combination that is less a “Mercedes payment” and more of a “used Yugo payment” in cost.
The problem with either tissue expanders or muscle grafts is much the same as for butt implants - there has to be sufficient circulation and blood for in order for healing to occur. If there’s an issue with that any surgery in that are will be contra-indicated for the most part.
Ah, yes. This harkens back to my earliest days of using voice recognition software. Some of the programs I used back in the day would censor my language in the transmogrification phase. This pissed me off, naturally, and I complained loudly about it, but it wasn’t exactly something my parents were eager to find a work-around for. And anyway, it was still better than the programs that just coveniently failed to “hear” those words at all.
Over time, I just got used to seeing them spelled with various pounds and asterisks in place of vowels or the whole word. And at some point, I realized that I actually liked the way it looked better than the real word spelled out fully. For some reason that spunky little asterisk especially makes the word “pop” to me.
Anyway, the Dragon software I’ve had for years now could easily be trained to transcribe the types of things that would make a sailor blush, but what do I go and do? I spell out my funny little expletives, letter by letter, with the asterisk included. :smack:
There also might be a teensy tiny bit of Catholic guilt mixed in there…
Of course! I’m not immune to making an asshat of myself on occasion. I have assumed people who are ambulatory are not disabled, only to find out that they’re in the early stages of a degenerative disease like MS, or that they suffer from crippling bouts of RA. I’ve also assumed that AB people have no experience with disability, only to find out that the person in question’s mother/brother/child uses a wheelchair. So the dumb assumptions go both ways, for sure. :o
I just discovered this thread a day or two ago, looking to avoid working, so this comment is way late and I’ve come nowhere near reading the whole thread yet. (In fact, I’ve read to here.) As a father of five (including a pair of twins), this moved me more than anything else you’ve written so far. I hope my kids are half as good with each other.
I’ve got to say you really do write amazingly well. Somehow you come through so much better than I come through my writing. And as someone well worth befriending. In fact, I’ll semi-publicly admit I’m crushing on you. Inappropriate I suppose; I’m pretty sure Mrs Slow and the Slow Minions would object, but there you have it.
Oh, and I have a question on the scuba diving that probably hasn’t been asked yet. How will you pressurize your ears, if you can’t cough? I have a problem pressurizing my right ear, and have to hang out at about 40’ before I can go deeper. Will you need a special regulator? Or perhaps a helmet?
I’ve been used for my parking pass a time or two. 
Of course, there’s no guarantee that the disabled spots will be open, whether because other legitimately disabled folks are already using them, or some AB is being an enormous clod. So that can backfire pretty quickly: Instead of getting the free ride she thought she signed up for, my lazy friend now has to 1) find two open spots together so I can get out of the van using the side ramp (and two free spots together are usually out in BFE), or 2) unload me in the middle of the parking lot aisle, which engenders the glares and muttered curses of the drivers who can’t get around and so are forced to wait out this little pageant. So it could go either way.
Also iffy is the seating. Some places, the disabled seating is primo. Other places, it’s meh. And every once in a while it’s a “you cannot be serious.”
All in all, it’s a mixed bag and my friends have to decide if the potential upside is worth the possible downside.
My younger siblings LOVED going to amusement parks with me, because we could cut in line.
Congrats! :smack:
F*ck me. This whole episode sounds absolutely awful. I’m so glad it’s over.
I don’t think there’s any “easy” way to start life in a wheelchair, but your story made me think quite a bit about what I would have preferred, had I somehow been given a choice. In some ways, I think what you went through sounds harder.
Let me explain: I resisted doing a seating for a wheelchair in rehab as long as I could, because I didn’t want to have to come to the place where I admitted I would need one. I couldn’t stomach the idea of ordering this massively expensive thing that would only affirm to me (according to my thought process at the time) that my life was over. Forever. Unfortunately (fortunately?), there simply wasn’t any data to contradict this.
But if my doctors hadn’t been sure? If we had taken a “wait and see” approach? I think I would have fought reality even harder. I can’t imagine having left rehab in a wheelchair, certain that this was all just a zany episode in my life that would soon be just a crazy campfire story. I can only imagine I would probably have insisted on staying in bed until I could walk, end of story. No assistive devices, no OT, and definitely NO high school until I was up and moving again. Just hard-core PT every day, all day.
I also think it would have been harder on my family, not knowing exactly what they could hope or pray for. And friends. And just people in general. It seems like it would have been harder to explain why I was using a wheelchair, and that I didn’t think I’d be using one for too much longer. And as the weeks turned into months turned into years, I would hate explaining to people why I was still in the stupid chair. I would probably wonder in the back of my mind if people thought I just wasn’t trying hard enough to walk again, and I’d resent them for that.
Hm. Oh! Sorry for that bit of stream-of-consciousness. 
Anyway, thanks for sharing; I found it super interesting. It sounds like we’re both grateful for what we got, which is pretty much the key to happiness.
There is a way to specify this on Ticketmaster and the like–it’s usually either under “accessible seating” in a drop-down menu, or a blue handicapped icon that you click. If I’m not buying through Ticketmaster or a similar site, I usually just call. If I haven’t been to a specific venue, I feel better calling anyway, because I can ask more specific questions about accessibility.
Theoretically, if the accessible seating at an event were sold out, and I was desperate to go, I’d have to be more creative and find out if there’d be any way to sit in the aisle or be transferred to a seat and have my chair stored. But that’s a really unattractive option to me for too many reasons to list here, so the event would have to be pretty dang important. Plus, that scenario hasn’t happened to me…yet.
No idea what that is.
Like any minority, the disabled community has its own lingo, much of which has been requisitioned from the AB community, turning slurs and negative language into a sort of vocabulary of the brotherhood. And, like any minority, we are particular about who participates in this with us.
I can call Ambivalid a gimp, and he can call me crippled. My brothers can call me Special Ed. But if an AB stranger referred to me that way, unironically? Oh, hell no.
I can’t speak for every chair user, but I like the words gimp, crip, disabled, mobility-impaired, chair, situation, and SCI. I don’t like crippled (unless it’s ironic), handicapped, differently-abled (c’mon people), and condition (as in, “in your condition”). That’s not a complete list, but those jump to mind.
And I’m not automatically offended when someone accidentally uses a word I dislike. If I know them well, I usually just say, “Dude, chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature.”
Ahahahaha! This is great. Thank you! Bastard.
It’s a RL gathering of those who post here. Generally, food is involved; almost always, alcohol is.
It’s been a while since the last LA area Dopefest…might be time to plan another. Though I warn you, **Asimovian **will always try to have it at Roscoe’s.
Correct. I can still “break wind,” and it is awkward when it happens in social situations, since I don’t know it’s coming and couldn’t stop it if I did.
However, it doesn’t happen on its own all that often, which is actually a bigger problem. Gas can build up in my tummy without my knowing it. And since I have no abdominal muscles, I can’t bear down to release it. So that’s just one more thing my carers do for me, either by massaging my abdomen or by other more, ahem, manual methods.
Still, a toot is the least of my worries when I hear a sound from down there. :eek:
Well, I’m no homewrecker, but that’s awfully sweet.
And my brothers are truly the cream of the crop. I couldn’t imagine better ones. But they’re not saints, and we’ve had our share of fights over the years (pre- and post-injury)–never my fault, of course.
I agree totally with you! It’s our version of “N word privileges”.
I have no idea! I haven’t started diving yet, so I don’t really know how it will all work. I do know other quads have done it, so I’m confident there’s a solution.
Do you cough to equalize air pressure? I can’t do that. But on airplanes, if someone pinches my nose, I can usually muster up the breath to pop my ears.