The R word. Still?

In an age where it seems everyone can "choose" to be offended at the drop of a hat I hesitate to write this post but it needs to be said so I will.  ENOUGH WITH THE R WORD ALREADY!  In the last few months (and twice this week) I have encountered people who are not ready to give up that derogatory and highly offensive slang that we hurled at each other back in the 80's like it was nothing.  I am talking about the word retarded or worse - retard.
This is not about being politially correct although it is justified in that sense too.  Its about being humane.  Its about growing up and its about not trying to cut down someone else by referring to them as a person afflicted with a mental condition or any condition.   The real problem is that the victims here don't even know they are being offended.  That might cause some to say, "then why does it even matter?"   I will tell you why it matters.
It matters to me because when you sit next to me telling someone else that you think its funny to ask your young child  "what are you, retarded?" and you don't stop to think that the mother beside you might have a special needs child or granchild then you are clueless.  Why do we think its ok to call someone a retard?  Why is it ok to continue to use an outdated term in an offensive manner?  It broke my heart to hear a priest use the word in that manner during a homily recently and no one said a thing.  Including me because I cannot bring myself to be the bad guy even when I should.  So I write about it and hope to change someone's mind.

Each of these incidents happened to me recently and in one case it was a teenager, that one I get.  I don't hate that child for calling my gifted son a retard.  She is a child,  a self absorbed clueless one is my bet but guess why she said it?  Because she still hears adults say it!  People have stopped saying "That is so GAY!" for the most part so why can't we quit saying something or someone is retarded?  People have stopped referring to people as "oriental" (unless your over the age of 75.) So why can't we quit the R word?  I can answer that - the offended party can't speak up for themselves! 

The third incident happened yesterday while I was sitting next to an aquaintance whom I previously regarded with a great deal of respect and liked  a lot because she's just so darn fun.   She won't ever know that her casual comment  caused me a great deal of grief or that my opinion of her has taken a drastic downturn. 
I have a child with special needs.  No she is not technically "retarded" or even "intellectually disabled" though if you observed her you would probably think so (she has autism.)  However, you wouldn't know by looking at her that she is supremely bright, she taught herself to read at 3 years old, way before the rest of my typical children.  She would classify as "intellectually disabled" on any test that didn't involve Mario Karts or how to program a dvr (both she is genius at.)  There is so much more to people than a superficial term, a single word classification of one aspect of the whole person. When someone takes a term originally meant as a description and turns into an insult it makes you think, whose the one with the impaired thinking ability really?  I say the one who calls someone retarded in the first place.

So on behalf of mothers and fathers with sweet little children who are intellectually disabled I beg of you PLEASE stop using the R word.  It matters to us.  It's not funny at all.  Ever.  Move on.

A few thoughts on Hbot dive #1

Well, we did it.  We dove.  It.  Was.  Awful for me that is.  She had no problems until it got hot and muggy about half way through.  Then she was bored and hot and started to fidget.  But back to the beginning.  Unbelievably I had quite an experience.  It started out ok.  I am not panicky.  I have never had claustrophobia, I ride roller coasters and am not skittish.  I had a mini freak out when the Dr. zipped it shut.  Its cylindrical in shape and about 7 feet long so we had room to lay down or sit up.  it has to inflate and that takes 5 min and it makes your ears pop like when you drive up in the mtns.  Not uncomfortable though.  I had to turn around and look out the vinyl window to see the Dr and I just thought "I can't do this, I won't be able to get out.!"  Terror welled up inside me as well as panic and guilt because I paid a lot for this (we are skipping our summer vacation at the beach) and I love her and want to be able to bear anything to help her, even my own discomfort.  The shame of losing momentary control was immense.  It was mostly in my head thankfully, I didn't scream but I did insist she unzip the chamber and let me stick my head out and think for a second.  She said it happens sometimes but most always with the parents, the kids are fine.  And that was true.  Doodle thought it was funny.  She happily read books most of the time, or laid in my lap.
 I psyched myself up and told the Dr we would try again.  I laid down and did the only thing I could think of that might help.  I prayed.  I started saying the Rosary.  Now I am Catholic and that may be foreign to some of you but let me tell you - if you have ever been in a moment of intense fear and have nothing to cling to but prayer it helps to have something repetitive or meditative to say because you can't find the words that may be in your heart or head at the moment.  Just get yourself to that place of peace that surpasses human understanding as fast as possible.  I hate to sound dramatic.  I certainly don't live my normal life like this but I want to be honest about this whole process and this is really what happened.  It worked, I asked God and Virgin Mary to calm me and Pauli and to get me through it for her sake.  I was able to have my phone in with me and that helped. I could call my husband, a friend or the Dr in the next room. 

I started reading, time went by.  It felt good and relaxing for a while.  Then it began to be oppressively hot and sticky due to the pressure.  I had a small fan but I directed it at her to keep her cool mostly.  She got bored and agitated.  I started panicking again . . . I thought "She is going to flip out and want to get out, I wonder if she is feeling what I felt at the beginning?"  I had to get out.  I prayed again, harder and slowly the panic subsided. I imagined a clock in my head counting down the time.  Theoretically I knew we were safe and that there would be an end soon.  But what did she think?  Did she think we would never get out again?  I can only imagine what she thought as she has never been able to tell me more than "sad" or "mad" and that has been very very recently.  I hate autism.  I hate it.

So I had an epiphany of sorts.  I always thought people who freak out about enclosed MRI's were kinda wimpy and needed to get over it.  My own mom had to have relaxing medication to get through it.  The Dr. told me to take a Benedryl before coming in tomorrow.  It hit me - my sister Becky, who passed last year, took a Benedryl every day of her life along with other medications like Zanax. She had panic attacks and phobias her whole life.  God I had been so unsympathetic!!  How could I be so harsh on her??  I am so sorry Becky.  I get it now.  I will never judge someone for their phobias again. I get it now.  You have zero control over it and can't talk yourself out of it.  Its a physical and psychological thing.  I get it now.  Wish I had understood then.  I'm sorry . . .

Bringchange2mind

Today I was on the treadmill at the gym when I saw a spot on the view featuring Glenn Close and her sister Jesse.  Her sister has Bipolar disorder.  They are starting a website which brings mental illness in families "out" so to speak.  One in 6 adults has a mental illness so chances are someone in every family is included.  Well the commercial they showed made me cry and I had to run to the restroom and hide in the shower until I quit.  Why do some things touch that sore spot so quickly and sharply when months can go by with out the pain surfacing in such a raw way?  I don't know.  It felt good in a weird way.  I know people want me to be over my sister's death and they probably think that I am but I'm not.  I can hold it together pretty well and even talk about her without crying but not a day goes by when I don't ask the what if questions.  I will never have those answers. 
Anyway, here is the spot and I think its going to be a great thing if it catches on -