Betrayal of My Body...Stolen Dignity

    Selective amnesia.  I just noticed two posts in a row addressed a connection I see between health insurance, and auto insurance.  Though I feel a tad guilty for abusing the privilege of the precious time we are given each day, the two successive posts do speak to a larger truth about my daily life.  Most of my life, I have tried to stay abreast of world affairs, and the nuances of current affairs on the national, and local levels of government.
    Since I stopped working due to my cerebral palsy, and osteoarthritis, I have become keenly aware of inner calm--the priority, above all else, that my pursuit of inner calm must take.  My neurologist diagnosed that I have what is known as "intentional tremors."   Throughout my life, my left hand has been the powerhouse that has muscled me through college, a master's program, a 24-year career at a legal publishing company, and through living independently.  I have never had full use of my right hand, so, not until three years ago did I even question the role that my left hand plays in my life.  A friend, who has cerebral palsy affecting use of her right hand, and I have often said that we were frightened of something ever happening to our left hands.
    Then, July 8, 2009, the life as I had known it, changed radically.  Optimist that I always have been, I can say that the ending of my career in the paid workforce made possible the diagnosis of an unknown, frightening tremor in my left hand and arm.  The only possibility to explain my tremors seemed to be Parkinson's Disease.  It was not.  It may sound strange, but, being told that I had--that I have--intentional tremors enabled me to determine how to  live with it.
    Intentional Tremors.
   At its core, intentional tremors are shaking that becomes more intense the more a person with them tries to do a given task.  Three tasks come to mind.  Eating.  Drinking.  Handwriting.  To some, reasonable accommodation is a term that describes a central concept within the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990.  To me, reasonable accommodation is my intimate.  I try not to succumb to stolen dignity--the betrayal of my body.
    Drinking.  Reasonable accommodations took time.  Straws.  But, not just any straws.  With any reasonable accommodation, there must be a reasonable amount of fun, without the bendable, store-bought disposable straws, or boring straws found in catalogs for individuals far older than I.  To that end, I found colorfully-ribboned straws.  I do not want to be consumed by a body that confines me to a world outside the vibrancy life offers.
    Eating.  Strange though it may sound, eating in public is truly humbling.  While drinking may be reasonably accommodated, eating in public is much trickier.  I have never been much of a soup aficionado.  Thank God.
Forks are my friends.  With them, I have a half a chance with food.  With the exception of Breyer's vanilla ice cream, spoons are a slippery slope to use.  Knives are fairly useless, not obstacles, not my enemies, just benign tools.
    Handwriting.
    For a lifetime, my handwriting--its readability--has been a bone of contention.
    My high school teacher said of my homework, "I know it is from you, but, I have no idea what it says."  Ouch! That hurt.  I loved--I love--to write.  That hurt.
    So, in some ways, handwriting has been less traumatic, or less of a new trauma with which to cope, and adjust.  I learned to type one-handed in high school.  Technology has made available technology that I may use one day should my left hand give up.  I am  in no rush.  Typing--or the worlds it opens--brings enormous joy.  If need be I will learn to use a program called Dragon Naturally Speaking.
    Dragon Naturally Speaking does not ameliorate a very fundamental loss.  At Christmastime, receiving cards and letters is enveloped in something as special as the letter.  The handwriting of a friend, or a family member engenders emotions far beyond that which is ever conveyed.  I may be presumptuous to believe that others feel the same of me or my written communication.
     Yet, the pain of the significant loss of my handwriting due to my intentional tremors runs deep.  No one can take from me my  signature.  I do not fear identity theft:)  No one can duplicate my handwritten signature.
    I could torment myself by focusing on any of these realities.  I cannot run from them, literally, or figuratively.  Call me a Pollyanna, if you must.  Yet, I can concentrate my energies on my signature abilities,  gifts, passions, and people in my life.  Optimism.  Humor.  Purpose.  My survival skills.  My pathway to inner calm--inner peace.  I am no saint.  One look  at my bedroom can tell you that.
   Essential to pursuing passions is filtering out all of the excess noise that surrounds hot button issues.  Essential to pursuing my passions is in concentrating on what is truly life-giving.  I cannot engage myself in--embrace a world that offers no receptiveness to the nuances of living vibrantly.

Bringing Reason to the Shrill

     I strive to bring reason to the shrill.  Health care mandate.  Health care reform.  Health insurance.  Auto insurance.
     First, the health care mandate.
     Why is mandating the purchase of health insurance different from vehicle insurance?
     No one is addressing this seeming parallel.  I am not a driver.  Am I missing something?  Tell me.  I want to understand.
     Health care reform.
     To decision makers, I ask a simple question:
     Do you believe that each of us is guaranteed that we will wake up tomorrow with the same capacities we had when we go to sleep tonight?  On what basis?  Do you believe in a God that shelters us from life's unavoidable realities?  How does that influence your decision making?
     Can you tell me what your medical needs will be tomorrow?  What will the cost of those needs be?  I do not know the precise sum of my needs.  Yet, life has given me a good idea.
     I pray we may celebrate the joys of our daily living.  I pray we may embrace the sorrows of our soul's breathing.  Simplistic though that may sound, that is how I define sanctity of life.