Cripples At Christmas Cartoons 2015

CRIPPLED AT CHRISTMAS 2015

A slightly off color snarky cartoon collection starring a team of delightfully disabled friends. I'm thrilled to share the holiday season with you through the eyes of exquisitely drawn gimpy stick figures. Please enjoy this politically incorrect celebration of Christmas fun. Some of us are not "dashing through the snow" and this year, we will be heard! (Image descriptions are located below each corresponding, poorly drawn cartoon).

On the first day of Christmas…

Image- Stick figure in a wheelchair wearing a Santa cap. Beside him is a piece of paper resembling a letter. A bubble reads “Dear Disabled Friend, we look forward to harassing you in 2016. Until then, enjoy your poverty.” Headline above the drawing says: THE BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT OF ALL WAS NOT GETTING REVIEWED AT SOCIAL SECURITY THIS MONTH.

On the second day of Christmas…

Image- Stick figure in a wheelchair wearing a Santa hat. Thought bubble reads: “Finally! Something we can all get behind”. Next to her are two holiday themed cups that say “Christmas crippacino.” Headline above the drawing says: THE DISABILITY PRIDE CUPS AT STARBUCKS CAPTURED THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT IN A WAY THE PLAIN RED ONES COULD NOT.

On the third day of Christmas…

Image- A stick figure in a wheelchair is seated near Santa who is enjoying cookies on a table. Santa’s thought bubble says, “I just love that delicious rehab catalog taste!” The wheelie’s thought bubble says, “Money well spent!”

Text below has a comparison of “typical” cookie cutters ($15) and “adaptive” ones, which are slightly easier to manipulate ($45, + “special fees”)

Headline on top says: SHE JUSTIFIED THE OVERPRICED ADAPTED COOKIE CUTTERS BY CONVINCING HERSELF THAT SANTA WOULD TASTE THE DIFFERENCE.

On the fourth day of Christmas…

Image- A stick figure in a wheelchair near a bed. Surrounded by music notes, it reads “He sees you when you’re sleeping; he knows when you’re awake.” Wheelie’s thought bubble says: I swear; I’m still below the resource limit! And frankly, I wish you’d stop monitoring my sleep schedule.

Headline on top: NO ONE KNEW IF THE LYRICS REFERRED TO SANTA OR A MEDICAID CASE MANAGER…

On the fifth day of Christmas…

Image- a newspaper titled the North Pole Daily bears the headline "Santa demand easier access, says Easter Bunny has had it for years." Beside that is a picket sign that has the words "down the chimney" crossed out and replaced with "down with the chimney!” Headline above: SANTA’S NEW CAUSE, THE COALITION FOR ACCESSIBLE CHIMNEYS, WAS GAINING TRACTION IN THE PRESS.

On the sixth day of Christmas…

Image- Dasher the reindeer beside his little known cousin Limper. Limper’s thought bubble reads “Oh well. Maybe next year, there will be a progressive Christmas special. Then, I'll be famous.” Dasher’s thought bubble reads, “Sorry, cousin. Fame isn't all it's cracked up to be anyway." Headline above: – DASHER HAD A LITTLE KNOWN COUSIN NAMED LIMPER.

On the seventh day of Christmas… Image- Stick figure in a wheelchair seated by a large Christmas tree. Sign nearby says "This holiday, what better way to say ‘I love you’ then a new shower chair? Prices lowered from obscene to upsetting for this joyous season." The stick figure’s thought bubble says “Honestly, I was hoping for an Xbox.” Headline above: DESPITE WHAT THE DURABLE MEDICAL VENDOR SUGGESTED, MY DISABLED FRIEND WAS NOT IN FACT DYING FOR A SHOWER CHAIR BENEATH THE TREE.

 On the eighth day of Christmas… Image- The spotted elephant and the train with square wheels from the movie Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer at a demonstration. The elephant is holding a sign that says “Santa, I don’t need your approval!” and the train is saying “Square wheels. No big deal!” Lower caption says: The Island of Misfit Toys: An Empowered Living Community. Top headline says: THE MISFIT TOY PRIDE MOVEMENT REALLY SPOILED THE STORY LINE.

On the ninth day of Christmas… Image- An ambulatory stick figure with a thought bubble that says "That ramp was delicious! Always the best part!" He is standing beside a gingerbread house decorated with candy. From inside, a voice says "Well, I’m screwed!” Headline above: THE DISABLED GINGERBREAD MAN WAS IN DEEP TROUBLE WHEN SOMEONE ATE HIS RAMP.

 On the tenth day of Christmas…

Image- A snowman walking in winter weather with two crutches resembling candy canes. The thought bubble above his head says “Candy Crutch Saga!” and is filled with dollar signs. Headline says: THE DISABLED SNOWMAN TURNED HIS STRUGGLES TO WALK ON ICY DAYS INTO A WILDLY SUCCESSFUL APP.

On the eleventh day of Christmas…

Image- A stick figure in a wheelchair is lying face down in the snow near a caption that says: fall count: 42. New record! His thought bubble reads “Damn snow!” Headline above: FOR THE WOBBLY FRIENDS WITH CP (CEREBRAL PALSY), "RECORD SNOWFALL HAD A DIFFERENT MEANING.

On the twelfth day of Christmas (or New Year’s Eve)…

Image- A stick figure in a wheelchair in a New Year's Eve party hat. Next to her is a sign that reads “Make your predictions about paratransit fails in 2016. Together, we will watch the ball drop!” Her thought bubble reads “I highly doubt that your lateness was part of a ‘Drop the Ball’ New Year’s theme night.” Headline above: IT SEEMED THAT NEW YEAR’S EVE WASN’T THE ONLY DAY PARATRANSIT DROPPED THE BALL…

A Place Between: Balancing Medical Intervention with Disability Pride

Yesterday, I was at a conference about cerebral palsy, mostly attended by medical professionals like surgeons who have spent their lives researching my disability. They understand it through the lens of medicine and science, considering how to make spines straighter and muscles looser. I admire them immensely and I can say without a doubt that many of the surgeries and therapies they suggested and developed have given me a better life. As someone whose life began as a 30- week- old premature baby on a respirator, I owe these great minds for keeping me alive. But as one of the only people with CP in the room, being in this medical environment was peculiar. So much of medicine is about “pushing the limits”, “defying the odds”, and “fixing the body.” Yet there I was in the back of the room, seated in a power wheelchair and unable to walk just as medicine had predicted for me. I am a quadriplegic. “The most severe form.” The reality that all these doctors work to outwit with science. It is very difficult not to internalize the feeling that there is something “wrong” with me when all the medical rhetoric is focused on reducing the incidence of people like me. Through the scientific lens, I represent a “poor outcome” which seems so ridiculous because I have a very happy life. I love my wheelchair and the soft buzz it makes. I love the way my disability has connected me with a diverse tribe and I love that it will put even more people I wouldn’t have met otherwise in my life. I am more than “OK” with the life and the body I have. But I still think about how difficult it is as a young person finding her identity to balance the value of medical intervention with value of self-acceptance. It seems that these concepts are at odds with each other: one founded on “fixing”, the other on “embracing.” It has not been easy to find a place of peace between the two, but doing so has helped me to live a beautiful life. Oftentimes, I think doctors get wrapped up in the science of fixing and do not pause to consider that hearing too much talk about what is wrong with your body can really hurt your heart. So, if I had the chance to address those doctors, this is what I would say.

I admire you. I see your compassion. I see the long hours you work and the time that you sacrifice to help me. You are some of the smartest people I’ve ever met and I am grateful for your devotion. The surgeries and therapies you have recommended over the years have helped me. But there are some other things I need you to know. I need you to look at my life not only in terms of science, but in terms of humanity. I need you to understand that medical intervention isn’t everything, and that life with CP can be great, even if the person never learns to walk. Even if the classification next to her name is “severe.” I need you to know that my relationship with CP is not a simple matter of black and white. It causes some things that are less than desirable, like painful spasms and achy joints. However, the strange duality is that it gives me so much good. My sense of humor. My ability to adapt. Lifelong friends. It is no stretch to say that CP has at least in part created the person I am. So, as you're working, think of this and think of it often. Not everything needs to be “fixed.” I imagine that you have been taught that the ultimate goal is to have the fewest traces of my disability as possible. You may be surprised to know that my primary goals are to manage pain and to do activities of daily living in the easiest, safest way possible even if that means that my muscles and bones are very far from fixed. 

By all means, I look forward to your ideas about how to help me but remember that helping does not always look like what you first believe it does. Sometimes, I may need you to lengthen a muscle or straighten a bone. But other times, and much more often, I need you to tell me and tell all of us that our disabled bodies are “OK”. To tell us we are worthy of celebration just as we are. To tell us that our crooked hips are part of our design and that even if we find ourselves marked as “severe,” our lives are a “good outcome.” I hope that you will keep thinking about muscles and bones, but I hope that you will also think about how to make the world more inclusive for us as we are. Things like making buildings accessible, making doors easy to open, and working to end the attitudes that lead to discrimination against us in work and school. Many of these social inequalities are significantly more troubling than CP itself. Most days they feel like the real obstacles. I need you to balance your instinct to fix our bodies with an effort to make life easier and more comfortable in the bodies we have right now.

Yesterday, there was a lot of talk about “imagining the future of CP.” Some of you may believe that the future I see is one in which cerebral palsy no longer exists. But that is not it. When I close my eyes, I see a future where all people with disabilities can go to school without struggle or have a job of their choosing. I see a society where no one is bullied or isolated because of a disability and anyone can access any building. I see a world where people can be independent, but get help when they need it. Where disability and poverty are no longer linked. You are in that future, too, Doc, helping people manage their pain and live long, happy lives. When I close my eyes, I don’t dream of a place where I don’t have cerebral palsy. I dream of a place where it doesn’t matter if I do because either way, I know I will have equal opportunities.

(Image is my power wheelchair headrest, decorated with various buttons. In closest focus is a black button that says "What you do matters" in white lettering)

In Loving Memory of Alexis Wernsing

This evening I am taking a moment on my blog to honor my friend, Alexis Wernsing. She was always a huge supporter of my writing, and it just feels right to share her story with you. Thank you Alexis for encouraging me to keep on squeakin'. I promise that I will make you proud.

Alexis Wernsing

1975-2015

Alexis Wernsing was the kind of person who made everyone she met better. I am absolutely heartbroken that her life on earth is through, but I also feel great joy knowing that she is in the arms of God tonight. Alexis’ faith in her Creator was deep and unwavering, and I know if there is any wait time to enter His kingdom, she only waited about two minutes…I have met very few people who deserve the joys of Heaven as much as she does. Author Jeni Stepanek once described the concept of a thin space as “ that place where your spirit and God are in closest contact.” She said,  “Generally, we're all aware we have a spirit, an essence, that's deep inside us. At your thin space, the veil separating your essence from your being becomes transparent enough that the spirit becomes undeniable. Instead of being a silent voice, your spirit more or less shows itself to you; you know it intimately rather than simply being aware of it.” Alexis was always at her thin space, letting the true essence of her beautiful spirit show itself at all times.

She was unfailingly kind, and always came to the rescue if someone around her was upset. I will always remember her rolling to the door of my dorm room holding a pile of baked goodies to make me feel better. She always made a point to keep track of my favorites and delivered them whenever I needed a pick me up. Eating doesn’t fix all our problems, but it sure helps, and Alexis knew that was especially true when it came to banana bread and peanut butter brownies. I remember the skeptical look on her face when we compared the dining hall brownies to her mom’s brownies. Obviously, the homemade ones were hands down superior in her eyes and in mine. Her sweet tooth was second only to her sweet heart.

When Alexis and I met in the Fall of 2011, I thought we were both 18. It turns out we were a generation apart, but nonetheless she was one of my best friends at U of I. I consider her my soul sister, and our bond transcended the eighteen years between us. She always understood my “old soul” and from the moment we met, I knew we were the kind of friends who could see right into each other’s hearts. Alexis was overjoyed to be a college student, and her work ethic was second to none. When the other students were going out to the bar or heading to bed, the light was on in her room. You could find her with a pencil in her mouth, tapping diligently at the keys of her computer. After all, finishing each paper brought her a step closer to her dream of becoming a professor, even if it made her a little sleep deprived. God may have called her home before she could become a professor in the formal sense, but in every sense of the word she succeeded in teaching others much more than they could ever learn in a textbook. I once asked her what she hoped to teach her beloved nephews Carter and Landon. Quickly, she replied, “compassion and love and to try to get to know people for who they are not what they look like. We’re all different and we’re here to learn something from each other.” If that was her mission in life, she certainly fulfilled it, not only teaching this lesson her nephews, but the rest of us too. Alexis always dreamed of going to Italy to admire the wonderful art. I am devastated that she never had the chance, but the place from which she watches us now is definitely more beautiful than Italy, and filled with perfect, eternal peace.

Alexis, the last time I saw you on earth, I cried because I was so sad to leave you on my last day of college. You said not to cry, because we’d be in touch all the time, and you would see me again. Even though it’s hard to fathom a life on earth without you in it, I still believe what you said, because you always told the truth. I will see you again, beyond the thin space, beyond all the trials of this world. Until then, I will remember your favorite verse, Jeremiah 29: 11-13. "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."  I’m not always sure what His plan is for me, but I sure feel lucky that it included knowing you.

I’ll miss you, but we’ll be in touch all the time, just like you said. I just have a feeling you’ll be sending me signs to let me know that in some way, you’re still here. Because you loved art so much, I will try to see your passing through the eyes of an artist. You told me once that when you study art, you learn that beauty is subjective, and that it means all different things, depending on how you look at it. Even though it is painful right now, I will listen to your words and remember that our new way of being together is beautiful too. I just need to change the way I look at it. Love you forever.

Image: Alexis, smiling in her wheelchair. She has brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, glasses, and a beautiful smile. She has a track to help her breathe and is wearing a white shirt with multi colored hearts, fall 2012