My bad hip has been freaking out because of the swimming. It's getting better, but it's going to be a long slog until the muscles are strong enough that I don't have trouble with that hip again when exercising.
To deal with this, I have been walking with the cane again regularly.
Yeah, guess how that's been going.
"Oh my god, what happened to you?" say the newer co-workers who haven't seen me walk with a cane before.
"Awww, you're walking with the cane again, what did you do?" say the co-workers who have seen me walk with it before.
"I just need it sometimes," say I, unable to shake the training that it is rude to call people out on their rude as fuck shit. I haven't been unable to make snark my default response and yet I also refuse to explain my disability to people whose business it goddamn well isn't, and that's left me with "I just need it sometimes."
I love how my body is up for comment, that my choice in assistive devices is deemed cause by so many for eyebrows and gestures and "What's with the cane?" -- and in fucking accusatory tones, no less. As if I have done something offensive to society by daring to be young and disabled.
I didn't stop walking with the cane regularly because I stopped being disabled. I just had a good stretch where I didn't need it much. But I'm disabled; usually, the cane lets me deal with it better than without.
But sometimes I think the most useful thing the cane could do for me is hit people's shins when they pry into business that isn't theirs.
The absolute fucking hell of it is: swimming is going to probably help a lot. It'll help my overall fitness. And once the muscles get stronger, I'll probably need the cane less often than I had even when I was stable and mostly not using it.
But even then, I won't stop being disabled.
If only people would stop demanding that I explain myself to them for daring to exist while visibly disabled in their vicinity.
To deal with this, I have been walking with the cane again regularly.
Yeah, guess how that's been going.
"Oh my god, what happened to you?" say the newer co-workers who haven't seen me walk with a cane before.
"Awww, you're walking with the cane again, what did you do?" say the co-workers who have seen me walk with it before.
"I just need it sometimes," say I, unable to shake the training that it is rude to call people out on their rude as fuck shit. I haven't been unable to make snark my default response and yet I also refuse to explain my disability to people whose business it goddamn well isn't, and that's left me with "I just need it sometimes."
I love how my body is up for comment, that my choice in assistive devices is deemed cause by so many for eyebrows and gestures and "What's with the cane?" -- and in fucking accusatory tones, no less. As if I have done something offensive to society by daring to be young and disabled.
I didn't stop walking with the cane regularly because I stopped being disabled. I just had a good stretch where I didn't need it much. But I'm disabled; usually, the cane lets me deal with it better than without.
But sometimes I think the most useful thing the cane could do for me is hit people's shins when they pry into business that isn't theirs.
The absolute fucking hell of it is: swimming is going to probably help a lot. It'll help my overall fitness. And once the muscles get stronger, I'll probably need the cane less often than I had even when I was stable and mostly not using it.
But even then, I won't stop being disabled.
If only people would stop demanding that I explain myself to them for daring to exist while visibly disabled in their vicinity.