tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512974252421215566.post201131216423356899..comments2024-03-25T10:23:36.615-05:00Comments on Smart Ass Cripple: Pain and SufferingSmart Ass Cripplehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13017074589165581514noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512974252421215566.post-85739777074088974902012-04-22T14:36:43.285-05:002012-04-22T14:36:43.285-05:00I love your way with words. As a chronic pain mudd...I love your way with words. As a chronic pain muddler, <br />All I kno is pain sucks. I hate it n tolerate it n make it my pet <br />And my boss and my nemesis. I'm a trained facilitator for the the <br />American chronic pain association. That means I look into the face<br />Of people suffering pain and tell them I understand. I wish I didn't.<br />I wish I slept at night and didn't wake up Well you kno. Pain sucks and we agree. <br />And we live and breathe and dance in any way we canAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512974252421215566.post-6434037172243444232012-04-06T13:43:37.392-05:002012-04-06T13:43:37.392-05:00I had to wear orthopedic shoes before I was proper...I had to wear orthopedic shoes before I was properly diagnosed because the eminent doctors thought my problem was weak ankles. (Ha! It was much more than that.) They were white and essentially shaped like large baby shoes, so wherever I'd go kids would ask "Why are you still wearing baby shoes?" Finally, when I began using a wheelchair full time I had an argument with my mom who thought I needed to continue wearing them. What was the point if I was no longer walking? She relented on the orthopedic shoes, but wanted me to continue wearing high top sneakers. (Considering our budget, that meant fake Converse from the Kmart dollar bin, which every child knows is social seppukku.) When I was old enough to throw off the shackles of ugly shoes, the pendulum went the other way, and I now have quite the collection of completely impractical pretty sandals.Michellehttp://www.disabilitymovies.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512974252421215566.post-62899049711819874002012-04-03T13:17:36.653-05:002012-04-03T13:17:36.653-05:00I had a "leading expert" too. He must ha...I had a "leading expert" too. He must have missed a brunch of leading expert classes though because I he'd say I was dying every few months from 3 to about 16 yet here I is.<br /><br />But much like fine heel cords staying alive is hard to cash in on (If you're not Gibb or Travolta) which is a shame because debt is easy for living cripples!<br /><br />I thought about claiming emotional distress but that requires additional "leading expert" fortune telling.<br /><br />JxJikaixhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10892616669737924302noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5512974252421215566.post-30458189085843934442012-04-03T12:42:02.353-05:002012-04-03T12:42:02.353-05:00I was born with clubbed feet. I never understood ...I was born with clubbed feet. I never understood why they called them that until I saw my first golf club. Of course a doctor would associate feet that look like that with something he knows well. I did have some kind of surgery that involved cutting into the side of each heel, but I don't recall the word "cord" being mentioned.<br /><br />Until I was around five years old, I had to wear special half-boots of the type we around here call "clod hoppers" or "shit kickers" because they are typically worn by farmers and other outdoor laborers. Their unfashionability wasn't the worst thing about them, though; they were shaped such that they appeared to be on the wrong feet.<br /><br />There were little R's and L's on the sole of each boot to show which went where, and I learned how to read when I was around four, so I know I was wearing them correctly. Everywhere I went, other kids would make fun of me, and adults would try to help me put them on "the right feet". I'm still not sure which reaction was more humiliating.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com