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We found 10 result(s) that match your search "disability":

I've swallowed my pride and decided to apply for disability services here at school. They can offer me a few resources that I do not have access to otherwise. Most importantly, they give me the ability to register early for class and to notify my professor's that there is a legitimate health issue that I deal with.

 

The past two semesters, I've considered doing it, but I've also thought it was too embarrassing. But finally, things have gotten to the point where I'm realizing that it's not embarrassing, it's reality. So I've taken the initial steps to go through with it.

 

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Both of my doctors, my endocrinologist and the doctor in charge of my bio-identical treatment, have sent disability status letters for me. It actually took very little effort, despite the initial feedback from the nurses in the beginning. I'm happy to get these out of the way and go forward with the process. I'll also be writing my own letter to support my case with a personal note.

 

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Since I'm right in the middle of my "dating prime," dating is on my mind. Of course, there is the typical stuff about meeting new guys and just trying to be myself while catching their attention. Then there is the serious side of me that wonders about the long term situations and all that entails. To top it off (like a cherry on a sundae), there is dating and diabetes.
I'm usually okay with dating and diabetes. I don't hide it, but I don't flaunt it. I always take a survey of the situation before throwing diabetes into the mix. I don't really have a problem telling dates about my diabetes. It's something that is completely a part of me and therefore, something they must completely accept. (READ MORE)

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I can't remember what sparked the discussion, but I asked Olivia a while back which she'd prefer to have: Diabetes or a physical disability. She immediately answered that she'd rather have diabetes. I asked her why.
She said that diabetes can be as open or as hidden as you want it to be. You can tell everyone that you have it or you can tell no one, it's up to you. She said that a physical disability would be almost impossible to hide. She said she'd probably be more likely to be made fun of with a physical disability than with diabetes. She has experienced some teasing because of her diabetes but it was mild and was nipped in the bud before it got out of hand. (READ MORE)

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A friend emailed me this week after someone posted something on their blog implying that his characterization of his daughter's illness as a "bad thing" was wrong.  I've heard this kind of argument before about disability or brokenness.  That somehow, manageable chronic disease (particularly disease that onsets in childhood) can't be a "bad" thing because it's a part of a person - or because it's helped to shape a person.  Well, I call B.S.

 

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How many times have you been talking to someone about your diabetes diagnosis, and had them respond by saying the following: "You don't look sick!"?

 

And how many of you have ever rattled off a list of medical conditions to someone, only to have them say "You're too young to have that much wrong with you!"?

 

I'd be willing to bet just about every one with diabetes or any other invisible illness has heard those lines at some point.  I certainly have.  Admittedly, I find them rather annoying.

 

Some days, I don't even acknowledge those comments, because I just don't have it in me to deal with them.  Other days, however, I'm not so passive.

 

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It is often difficult to ask for help. Many of us see it as a sign of weakness, or as giving up our independence. In the case of those of us with diabetes, it may mean coming out of the insulin closet for the first time, exposing ourselves for possible loss of job opportunities, medical insurance, or even medical care. One might say that for some of us, getting the medications we need to live right now puts our future income, and our future health, at risk. On the other hand, sometimes that exposure can point the way for others with similar difficulties to find life-saving solutions. In that sense, those of us who go public with our pancreatically-challenged state are sometimes privileged to be the lightbearers for others' lives.

 

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The ongoing issues with The Other Half's sciatica have come to a close, at least for now. It's taken two rounds of anaesthetic shots to the L5 nerve, and he's still prone to discomfort and fatigue after long periods standing, but he has been released to return to his "day job". He started Monday, on a 4 x 10, 1300 to 2300 shift. Since my shift is currently 1000 to 1800, this means that four days a week, I'll be on my own for dinner -- and hopefully asleep when he gets home. It also means having to take care not to wake him when I get up at 0600 to take my morning ride. (Unfortunately, neither of these has happened this week -- nor have my Monday or Thursday morning rides.)

 

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There is nothing comedic or trivial about handicaps, disabilities, and/or special medical or developmental needs. "Reduction to absurdity" is a technique of debate in which a premise is taken to, or past, its logical extreme. While this can be used to belittle an opposing viewpoint (Google "Godwin's Law"), it can also encourage thoughtful discussion.

 

I will also aim to use the definitions of student accessibility to public education expressed here.

 

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Sunday night, my throat started hurting pretty badly. I haven't had any type of cold or cough in probably two years. Usually the first signs, I can kick whatever I have with extra vitamin C and this juice that I drink. I did the usual, but it stayed irritated.

 

So Monday night, I ate some tomato soup and tried to drink as much water and juice as possible. I was 113 and thought I'd covered the food okay. I went for a run, hoping the endorphins would bump up my immune system. After a quick shower, I was 96. I wasn't sure how the food and running might hit me, so I just waited.

 

But while waiting, I got distracted. So it was an hour and a half later before I checked again. I felt okay, but I wanted to double check. And thank goodness. I was 55. I drank some juice and ate some crackers trying not to over treat. I didn't want to waste my run by consuming more calories.

 

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