Sussing My Disability

My disability stretches out into several parts. I am effectively relegated to a wheelchair when we leave the house because of them. In the house there are many problems, as well.

My knees have been deteriorating for decades. I need to replace at least one. That means hospitalization. Ewww!

The second, and most primary issue, is medication hell. I want to know why they chose devastating carvedilol with a much higher side effect factor and lower overall general effectiveness factor when they could be prescribing metoprolol instead. I call b.s. unless they can prove differently – and I do mean prove. I know that they think I’m overeducated, but I read and research. They need to get over themselves.

Around the house, the risks for injury and declining independence can be fixed, but haven’t been, even when I’ve asked. I can do some of it myself, but all I get is the line “I’ll get that,” and nothing happens, or it isn’t properly planned. As a former set designer, I learned the importance of traffic patterns and smooth movement. I wish it was left to me. It isn’t.

So I am currently an invalid, not of my doing.

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