Letters to the Editor
“Hey
Rodney, Here’s Your Respect!”
by Scott Schifsky, Saint
Paul
As a former Direct Support
Professional I have concerns regarding the PCA who wrote about feeling
like Rodney Dangerfield last month. [“Where’s the Respect?” —Sept.
10, 2006] I have a few ideas that may be of assistance to this “anonymous” clown.
Dear Rodney,
If your back,
arms and legs hurt so damn bad, go back to Tires Plus and patch
tires for the big bucks. I think the last thing the disability community
needs is a whiny six-foot-six person who does nothing but complain
about how hard it is to do direct care.
Please let me also point
out I’m six-foot-one, 210 pounds
and would be willing to slap you if that would help you come to your
senses.
By the way, you don’t
serve “clients,” you serve
People. “Client” means “dependent” in the
dictionary. I’m sure the folks you serve have learned not to
depend on you! ![]()
Living with a Disability
is No Tragedy
by John Tschida
Like Bradley Bakken,
whose tragic story opened Aug. 31’s front-page
article of the Minneapolis Star Tribune on the increasing spinal
injuries in Minnesota, I “lived and breathed the outdoors,” and
I, too, broke my neck in an accident that sent my life careening
in a horribly unplanned direction. At age 26 my hiking and biking
days came to an abrupt end in a motionless heap just opposite St.
Paul’s Cathedral. My legs were dead, paralyzed for good.
My mother, upon hearing
that I would live my remaining days as a quadriplegic, was devastated.
As a teenager I sat beside her in the front seat of our ’77 family station wagon and refused to wear
a seat belt. “Better dead than quad” was my motto. She
was convinced I’d never want to live “like that,” confined
to a wheelchair and dependent upon others for the most private of
human functions.
She was wrong, as I was wrong in my teenage wisdom, having never
dreamed I would need to fashion a life in a body that is nearly lifeless.
Spinal cord injuries
are tragic and in many cases are life-altering, but living with
a disability is no tragedy. The U.S. Census tells us that more
than 679,000 Minnesotans have disabilities. We see it daily in
the eyes, ears and limbs of our friends and elderly relatives.
Many disabilities we can’t see, such as mental health and chronic
pain, but these conditions can be just as crippling and profound
as a shallow dive or, in my experience, a bicycle accident. In short,
disability happens, and if we live long enough we’ll all experience
it.
Make no mistake, a broken
neck means a profound change in lifestyle and often life expectations.
Grieving the loss of a life left behind is gut-wrenching. But living
with a disability is something millions of Americans do each day.
For most of us, this isn’t about
overachieving or overcoming. It isn’t even inspirational or
necessarily heroic. It is what it is. Whether by birth, accident
or diagnosis, it’s a part of everyday life. For some it is
a mere inconvenience. For others, often with severe disabilities,
it can be a constant struggle with pain, both emotional and physical.
Today, I am literally surrounded at my place of employment by people
whose limbs may be functionally useless, but whose lives are filled
with meaning. Some require ventilators to breathe, many use wheelchairs,
and still others carry disabilities that will never be seen. Each
has a story, many of which are sad tales that involve diving, car
wrecks or violence. All have found a welcome place to gather for
help and support that helps define who they are and who they will
become.
By opting to be disconnected from the respirator that kept him alive,
Bradley Bakken made a choice for himself and his family that I would
never say is the wrong choice, nor would I say that su! ch a choice
be eliminated as a matter of law. I only hope that in the midst of
such agonizing circumstances there is access to resources like those
that surround me each day.
There is hope to be found, and happiness that repeatedly creeps
in, often in the most unexpected and wonderful ways.
John Tschida is vice president of public affairs and research at
Courage Center in Golden Valley. First Published September 09, 2006,
in the Minneapolis Star Tribune. ![]()
