Legalities, in a way.

BIL left to go back home. He’s been here since August. Except for the last day (when there was a witness) he looked through me. I did not exist.

He arranged our house for his own comfort, but called it helping his brother. In the living room, alone, he has 3 tripping hazards, boxes full of broken equipment for ‘tables’, furniture all the way around the room, blocking the exit from back door. Partners PC is now in the living room, with a broken potty chair as a chair. All the curtains are always open so any thief can take inventory without coming near the place.

I asked my partner if I could disable-proof the living room. He said no (strongly, emphatically). I can only think he believes his brother wouldn’t put him in any danger, so it is perfect. It is not perfect, not even close. Then I figure, well, sure. Maybe I will trip or fall over this stuff (already have, once). Maybe that’s the point.

So, here is this. I refuse to accept any responsibility if my partner is physically or emotionally injured due to any reason in the bathroom, living room, bedroom … well really, in any room in this place due to hazards that have been identified or not, because he has refused any changes. (I note, the one item of furniture he hated has been identified and removed from the house for his ‘safety’ in getting to the toilet. I loved this item. It’s why it had to go)

In addition, I hold my partner 100% liable to any injury, physical or emotional, that I incur due to the difficulty in getting around without harm. I am going to include anxiety or breathing difficulties in this. Mainly because I go near that living room, look at it, and instantly spike an asthma attack from stress.

He’s done nothing but parrot his brother since he got home from hospital.

He has also never, ever, been held accountable for action, word or deed. It’s about time, don’t you think?

Disabilities.

Some disabilities are invisible to the naked or prejudice eye. You’d think everyone knew this by now, but it’s still something disabled people have to say. You can’t tell by looking at someone if they have, say, a bad heart. Or lungs. Or blood disorder. Not until something on the outside changes. Perhaps a leg brace, tumors, or maybe a wheelchair. A cane. A companion pet. Something that gives a ‘normal’ person a visual clue. Do not assume the person who is ‘illegally’ parking in the disabled bay, isn’t disabled.

Don’t assume one disabled person is the same as the next disabled person. Disabled people are individual, same as ‘normal’ people. You don’t expect a normal person to run the same, or as fast, as another normal person, so why do you expect disabled to be the same? So help me, I once had a disabled woman tell me ‘If I can do it, you can.’ No, I can’t. My disability is different from yours. Even if we’d had the same problem, it doesn’t mean we can do the same things. Just as one person running, can’t be as fast as the next guy.

Due to austerity, disabled people have become easy targets. It’s always been ‘fun’ to harass disabled folks but it’s gotten more extreme, with physical attacks. Disabled have become targets because they’re using their right to disability payments. God forbid (or at least, your nasty neighbour) you should have a leg up. Don’t be one of those people who turn away when someone is getting stomped. But for a single trip down the stairs, that person could be you. Pay it forward, protect those who can’t protect themselves.

All my disabilities are on the inside. COPD (asthma & emphysema). Bad heart. IBS. Diabetes. Dyslexia. DVT. …oops, one isn’t. I have occasions of drop foot. That’s one you can see. But if I wasn’t walking, what walking I can do, you wouldn’t know there was anything wrong with me. There are thousands of us, living silently among you. But disability isn’t contagious, so you’re safe. Yeah, my bad heart won’t make your heart bad.

There are some ‘disabilities’ that aren’t actually disabilities. People born deaf or blind do not consider themselves disabled. They can be hurt, or insulted, if you consider them disabled. They are differently-abled. Or alternatively-abled.

I was deaf for about three months, once, due to ear infection. Those three months were eye opening. People treat you like your stupid. People tried to cheat me out of money or to palm off unwanted items. Like I didn’t know enough to call them on it, just because I couldn’t hear their voice. Don’t be a dick like that.

Being disabled doesn’t mean you are a victim, although we are frequently treated that way. Or targetted due to disability. We are frequently robbed, just because we can’t chase you down. (Although the one time I was mugged, I almost caught the bastard. Never discount what a pissed off granny can do, even if she is disabled!)

(This is an old post that I never published. Figured I might as well publish it, as it’s still valid.)

Well, this is new.

I’ve been sick since march 14th, 2020. Covid. Although at the time, they weren’t testing anyone who wasn’t a movie star, athlete, military, medical or political figure. I was a classic case even with their ever changing symptoms list. Ever since then, I have had fatigue spikes. Basiclly, I’m exhausted 3 weeks, then get a week that reminds myself what human feels like. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I am reluctant to talk to my partner about this because he believes if you have/had covid, you’re dead. If you’re not dead, you don’t/didn’t have covid. We’ll get back to this.

Seven days ago, I couldn’t breath. Went to hospital where they said, yo, lookit that, your white blood cell count is high, wonder what that could be? Well, off you go home, be sure to come back if you know, like, die. No covid test was done and I honestly have no fucking clue why.

Three days later, my nose starts running. Now, by that I mean not the sniffles, but when you look down it’s like turning on a faucet. Running. Get (or continue?) fatigue, the usual symptoms for me, yadda yadda, ad nauseum. As I said, I’m reluctant to bring it up with partner. But I do.

_{Me: I got a runny nose …
Him: you don’t have covid.
Me: I don’t have covid.}

And that was pretty much it. I noticed a couple of days later, my emotions were riding a little high. Higher than normal for me. I was getting angry. Like, really angry. And sad. Really sad. Nightmares about skinwalkers and trying to kill them. My hearing was super alert. Falling asleep is hard, but once sleeping it’s good – but fatigue still grinding me down. I’ve been sick for what, 7 months. I’m exhausted. And angry. I’m not being listened to, even the doctors don’t fucking care.

Then something happened that I wasn’t expecting. I stopped feeling my emotions. I could tell they were still there. I ‘felt’ the angry. But I didn’t feel it at all. ‘Oh, there’s a spoon on the counter’ gave me the same emotional punch as the anger. It feels blank. Distant. Muted? I can still tell there’s an emotion, but it doesn’t affect me. And I know what triggered this.

A few hours ago, partner comes up to me and starts telling me how the pains in his back are concerning him, cause he doesn’t know what it is, and what if he’s having a heart attack and can’t tell?

I just looked at him, nodding, emoting, you know how it goes. And in my head, I’m saying: Well, when I came to you asking about possible heart attacks, you’re response was: it’s a good way to die. It’s perfectly in my personality to have said it out loud. But I didn’t. The anger needed to say it wasn’t there. Well, it was there, but it was…blanketed. It was just – not sure how to put it. Pointless. The anger is pointless. The sadness is pointless. Fear is pointless, I can’t control anything – not the covid, not the doctor, not a sociopath partner who’s trying to kill me. It’s all just pointless.

Hammer Time.

The last time we used a tool was about six months ago and that was a screw driver. I can’t remember when we had need of a hammer. Years? Decades? I just realized today, I’ve seen a hammer in the bathroom for the last two weeks. Didn’t think anything of it. But…

Why is there a (really large, heavy duty) hammer in our bathroom, next to the toilet?

He’s never closed the door when on the throne (disability made it so people may need to get to him fast. Can’t have a closed or locked bathroom door.). And I just got into the habit. And the cat can’t use the handle, so we have the door open for her, too. We have wandered in and out, with one of us using the pot, it’s totally part of our natural routine. Even the cat thinks toilet breaks are actually social times and requests pets.

I ‘saw’ the hammer today and my mind went to a dark place.

Lockdowns have increased domestic abuse. I’m always on the look out now. I never expected my partner to use physical assalt (you can’t pretend to be innocent when your knuckle pattern is on her cheek) but he may be getting tired of my continuing existance.

I’m not getting very good sleep. I think I’ll ask about the hammer, see what he comes up with. Should be inventive!

Edit: I asked him why there was a hammer in the bathroom. He says he knows he took it in but has no idea why.

Ever Changing Rules

When Covid19 first started taking off, COPD patients were told to self isolate, being listed as high risk. In two days, this dropped off their list of high risk. (totally fine with who was on there, they are high risk) But I felt like dropping the COPD folks kind of cold. Thrown to the wolves kind of thing.

My doctors office stopped answering the phone. Two weeks ago I find a link to make a phone consult with a doctor, I sign up. (You couldn’t request a time frame, it gave you a time, take it or go away. I took it, although it was very early in the morning. Basically, I got two hours sleep before I had to get up to take it. I’m a night owl, usually falling asleep around five AM.) She confirms I had covid19. I ask why I’d not got a letter from the medical system, advising me to stay at home, ect ect. She tells me, flat out, COPD is not high risk. Lists each type of person who is. She was nice about it, but I still felt like ‘fuck you and your pansy illness’ was the bottom line.

A couple of days ago I got an email from the doctors office, telling me I was in the high risk category. I now had a letter I could give to my employer, a sick note, as it were. (I’m disable, yo, and don’t work). Thing is, I didn’t know if she’d bumped me up the food chain and got me listed, or not.

Turned out, not. The gov’s lists of high risk has changed. COPD (asthma, ect) are now listed as high risk.

At least I know my doctors office doesn’t hate me enough to wish me dead. Yeah, yeah, of course they wouldn’t. But shit happens. One time they held my medications hostage until I came in for a blood test. So, yeah, they’re human too, and ‘mistakes’ happen.

edit: sorry this got a bit whiney. I’m feeling a bit touchy.

Condiments are the first to go

I used to love to cook. I didn’t have a lot of time, being a single parent, going to college and working one or more jobs. On top of having bad asthma. Cooking was fun but needed to be streamlined.

Since marrying my current partner cooking became a joy and less of a chore. I had time I could invest. And I did.

But as time went on my disabilities got worse. I had to shorten the amount of time I spent cooking. There’s only so much energy I had and eating took some of that up. So I started shortening the prep time.

The condiments were the first to go. The side salsa’s, the rich creams or sauces. My partner would cut things for me and that helped. Pre-cut onions, potatoes, veg made it easier. But he refused to learn to cook. I once tried to teach him how to boil hot dogs but he refused. ‘It was too hard’. I’d already dummied it down from frying or bbqing. Boiling a dog – honest, it doesn’t get easier.

After the condiments were the sides. Steak and potatoes? Want corn or peas with that? … But it became just a baked potato. Butter, chives, cheese, broccoli, salt and pepper…became baked potato with butter, sour cream and salt and pepper. Steak, veg, side salad, took too much energy.

Soups became cup a soups. Fish became fish fingers. Cakes became microwave cake-inna-cup. Microwaved TV dinners on the menu. I got an hot air fryer I use a lot for frozen stuff, like french fries, which are a weekly meal. Just fries. Sometimes with catsup.

Ease of cooking is top priority. Eggs are eaten a lot, fried or scrambled, usually. I would love a real meal. Like American Thanksgiving meal. I think those times are over.

My usual go to is burritos. Refried beans from a can, grated cheese, hot sauce, sour cream. That’s my basic. If I got more energy, one or more of ground meat, lettuce, tomatoes, black olive, onion. But it’s rare to have the full monty anymore.