Category Archives: #sickbody

#sickbody, Advocacy, ankylosing spondylitis, Charis, chronic disease, chronic pain, disability, Invisible disease, open letter, Patient Advocacy, sickness

Dear Gate Agents and Flight Attendants, From People Who Don’t Look Disabled

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Dear gate agents,

I’m one of those passengers who shouldn’t be in the pre-board line.

You know the ones.

I’m dressed nicely and I have makeup on; I appear healthy and able-bodied. I don’t use a wheelchair. I’m young. I sometimes sit on the floor and stretch. Aside from my pillow and sometimes my cane and wrist braces, there is not much evidence pointing to a broken body. According to popular opinion, I don’t look disabled.

You want to do your job well, and part of that is accommodating people with disabilities. But often, when I request a pre-board pass, you look at me like maybe I’m cheating, like maybe I learned a trick somewhere just to get a better seat or not wait in line. Maybe you think I’m smug or even entitled. Sometimes you question if I need the pre-board pass on the basis of disability right after you sweetly, wordlessly hand one to the woman in front of me Continue reading Dear Gate Agents and Flight Attendants, From People Who Don’t Look Disabled →

#sickbody, Advocacy, Charis, chronic disease, chronic pain, Current Events, Death, disability, health, Health Insurance, Healthcare, Inequality, Invisible disease, Medicaid, Patient Advocacy, Politics, sickness, SSDI

Repealing Obamacare Could Kill me

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The Affordable Care Act (affectionately termed Obamacare) is likely to be repealed in a few months.

I’m told personal stories are powerful, so I want to share mine.

I was always going to be healthy. Aside from a slight concern when I quit a job that offered health insurance and took another job without it, I never once considered I would need a team of doctors. I boast a background as a college athlete, professional mover (yes, heavy furniture, etc) and otherwise health-aware person.

But my body lied to me.

Nearly four years ago, I was diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis, a severe disease that causes rampant and painful inflammation in the spine and other joints in the body, sometimes leading to the growth of bone spurs that fuse spinal vertebrae and hips. I wasn’t diagnosed by a healthcare provider at first – I found out I inherited this disease from my father after matching our symptoms.

Four years ago, I had a dilemma. Continue reading Repealing Obamacare Could Kill me →

#sickbody, Charis, Christianity, Current Events, Episcopal Church, Grief, LGBTQ, Politics, Survivor, Women

I’m Still Proud

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I’m still proud.

…Of being a Democrat. Because we try to put in place policies that protect and assist the poor, the disadvantaged, the disenfranchised, the marginalized, the needy…people who are less-than by no fault of their own. I’m proud of being a Democrat because we don’t expect everyone has the ability to pull themselves up by their bootstraps but we do want everyone to flourish as best they can with the same or similar opportunities. I’m proud because we reach across the aisle even when our hands are slapped over and over, we accept defeat graciously and we continue our work even if we can’t have the title ‘President’ or ‘Senator’ on our lapel pins. Continue reading I’m Still Proud →

#sickbody, Advocacy, ankylosing spondylitis, Arthritis, Burning Man, Charis, chronic disease, chronic pain, disability, Invisible disease, spondyloarthritis, Survivor

Burning Man and My Disease

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An oft-used quote at my alma mater is: “From the outside looking in, you can never understand it. From the inside looking out, you can never explain it.”

This year I went to Burning Man, an arts, music, and alternative lifestyle event/”festival” in Black Rock Desert in Nevada. Upwards of 70,000 people come together every year the week leading up to Labor Day to party, play, explore, gift, create, and survive in the middle of a desert complete with dust storms, extreme temperatures, and limited access to resources. You just have to experience it.

Aside from a desire to engage in a society where clothes are optional, costumes are revered, and money is virtually outlawed; I needed an escape from my life which, in short, has never been easy. I needed the spiritual retreat my priest experienced at his first Burning Man in 2015.

My initiation as a virgin to Black Rock City involved hugging a naked man, hitting a gong, and rolling in the dust. Immediately, I was Home.

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Sculpture by Laura Kimpton

I went to Burning Man intending to spend time at the Temple, where people leave things they need to release: prayers, tokens, fears, celebrations, memorials. There are weddings, funerals, meditations, and services; people crying and hugging and others alone in silent introspection. It seems the Temple consistently attracts a larger crowd than any other place in Black Rock City. It’s a place to take a breather from partying, to find a safe space from an overwhelming emotional experience, to celebrate or remember, or just stop and feel. As with all things Burning Man, the Temple does not stay. We cling to its temporal nature and wait for it to be set ablaze the final night, cleansing us of whatever we left there. It’s a symbol of transition and release. Continue reading Burning Man and My Disease →