Yes, this manner of describing our modes of transportation in a demeaning way
irks me.  I have used the word "liberated" myself Steve, when asked if I am
wheelchair bound.  "Well," I say "I would more accurately define myself as
being wheelchair liberated."

But the answer the person is looking for is whether I am in bad shape, or
REALLY bad shape.  I suspect that "How sorry am I supposed to feel for you?"
is the unspoken interest.

"I feel good...
I knew that I would now.
I feel good...
I knew that I would now.

So good
So good.

I got you

What does it matter whether I can walk at all (I can, but it's not a
"productive activity")?  I feel so good that I go around the house singing
James Brown.  I've been known to do Ethel Merman too (you don't want to be in
the same room, believe you me).

"There's no business
like show business,
there's no business I know.

Everything about it is appealing.
Everything the traffic will allow

NOWHERE can you get that happy feeling
then when you're stealing
that extra bow..."

Man, my life is great!  This disability is part of who I am and I work with
it; I have learned to go with the flow.  When I'm in the chair, I'm
relatively pain free.  By George, life is never sweeter than when I am in
that chair and the aisles are wide.

It's a beautiful thing.

Even when things are not so sweet, I am reflective.  I try to think of the
bad times as courage builders; then I try to make them work positively for
me.  We all have pain.  Because of this disability I have developed a pain
relief technique that helps with many kinds of pain, from my legs to dental
or headaches.  I admit that it doesn't work all the time, but most times it
does.  I'll share it with you and then I will get to the point of all this
writing.  (I do prattle on, don't I?)

I relax and accept the pain.  I invite it to wash over me and allow it to be
part of me.  If the pain is bad, I lay down and completely concentrate on
accepting it.  When I submit to the pain in this way, it eases perceptibly.
I can't tell you how serviceable this technique has been when one or another
prescription has not been sufficient.  I don't like loading up on potent
drugs unless it's absolutely necessary.

They feel too good...know what I mean Vern (or "Verno," if you saw the movie
"Stand by me")?

I meet the most wonderful people in the grocery store.  Like many of us, I
can't reach the upper shelves.  I could take a reacher, but then I'd lose the
opportunity to ask for help.  I'm alone a lot, and it's a pleasure to make
contact with other people.  There are some days when it's a pure joy.

In short, my life has been immeasurably enriched as a result of becoming
disabled.  It has caused me to think on a deeper level.  It has helped me
become patient with myself and my pain.  Disability has made me appreciate
people I pass on the street and in the store -- people I don't even know.

How can I let them go away thinking that I am "confined" to my chair?

Betty (time for the tag line -- soon to be a bumper sticker)
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
"I will either find a way or make one."

In a message dated 11/02/2000 3:43:19 AM Eastern Standard Time,
[log in to unmask] writes:

>
>  Perhaps how we perceive ourselves and our world "confines" us more than
>  our wheelchairs--which, after all, we "use" for mobility and to
>  "unconfine" ourselves.  Notice how frequently writers refer to us
>  wheelies as "confined" to our wheelchairs rather than being empowered or
>  liberated by them, or simply using them, or finding the fact worthy or
>  necessary of mention.
>
>  Too few of us have yet mastered the art, or is that the science?, of
>  negating the negative.  ;-)
>
>