I should also mention (having let Dori read this thread and give me her opinion) that kid’s tend not to ask the how-does-it-feel question. Kids seem to be curious about specific things – “Does CP hurt?”, “Can you get dressed( or take a bath, or whatever) by yourself?”, “How did you get it?”, “Is it catching?”, “Is there a cure?” Dori doesn’t mind at all answering these questions. In fact, she says that she usually answers at least one of these a day! It is adults who ask “How does it feel.” As I said before, she feels that this is an unanswerable (and, she said again, rolling her eyes in best 12 year-old fashion, a *stoopid/i]) question. But, even worse, she tells me now, it is an intrusive question. Would a reasonable person ask a strange black kid how it feels to be black? How about a grown man asking a young girl aquaintance how it feels to be female? Dori says that this could be an appropriate and interesting question under certain circumstances (during an intimate talk with a close friend, for instance), but she most often gets the question from near-strangers who ought to know better.
Gosh, that is a tough one. I don’t even know how to respond sometimes. I do know I don’t like it when it feels like a task is being taken away from me, like someone else decides for me that it’s too hard. I can see how some people might feel that way about having the door opened for them.
It’s tough. Everyone has their own line between wanting help and wanting independence. I know I hate it when I am doing something, and to me it doesn’t seem hard, but someone still tries to take it away from me. This happened a while back when I was putting files on a shelf. The shelf was just the right height and required no bending or reaching, so I decided to do the filing myself. A co-worker still insisted, “You shouldn’t have to do that, let me do it for you.” I kept insisting it was no trouble, I was perfectly capable of doing it. I kept saying, “Please, let me, because I can,” and she kept saying, “But you shouldn’t have to.” I finally left her the filing, in tears, and she couldn’t understand why I was so upset. If she wasn’t my best friend in the office, I probably would have told her to F-off, but I can see too that, because she’s my friend, she just wanted to help.
So how do you know when you’ve crossed the line? Damnfino.
“I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it,” Jack Handy
1.) I just want to say, I love the fish guts line! Trés Dave Barry
2.) That’s another problem I face constantly, too. The MD also affects my facial muscles and I can’t smile very well. Most of the time, my facial muscles are slack and I look like a frowny person, even when my feelings are happy or neutral, so I hate being told to smile. Even worse is when I’m told to smile and I AM smiling. Geesh, why don’t you just drive a knife through my heart, I’m sure it would be less painful.
“I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it,” Jack Handy
I’ve really learned a lot reading this thread, thanks everybody. I’m going to go to the library and see if I can find some good books on disabilities for children.
