Life on Wheels (38 page)

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Authors: Gary Karp

Tags: #Health & Fitness, #Physical Impairments, #Juvenile Nonfiction, #Health & Daily Living, #Medical, #Physical Medicine & Rehabilitation, #Physiology, #Philosophy, #General

BOOK: Life on Wheels
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… if you recognize that negative things are not always the result of your personal shortcomings, that lousy circumstances can and will change, and you limit your conclusions to the specific situation at hand, then you are far less likely to experience a negative perspective.
Grief

 

Some people say that, at the moment of their disability, they died. The person they were was gone. The natural response to loss is grief. You grieve for the loss of your former self—lost plans, lost capacities, lost relationships. Whether or not these fears come true, the feelings are real and merit attention.
Ann Marie Fleming, a rehabilitation psychologist, observes:

 

When you become disabled, you lose some part of yourself that you knew and cherished. Everybody goes through multiple, major adjustments that affect their career, marriage, and relationships.
There are a number of stages following a recent disability that can elicit more feelings of loss and grief. After dealing with the injury itself, you might face disappointment about how much recovery you accomplish in the initial months. When you are released from hospital care or rehabilitation, you will face certain limitations in the outside world, such as not being able to easily go wherever you want. Relationships will change. Until you move through these milestones and face these losses and changes, it will be more difficult to redefine yourself and replace those lost parts of your life with new activities, interests, and relationships.
Grief is part of the healing process and diminishes over time. With a new disability, you might well experience a deep, immobilizing grief over being injured or discovering you have a progressive condition of some kind. But it will pass, if you allow yourself to mourn. In time you might continue to feel a sense of loss about your disability, but says Carol Gill:

 

People are complex. We’re capable of feeling loss and remembering a sense of grief, but also of pursuing our lives and feeling real joy about other facets of our lives.
There is great social pressure not to grieve, or at least not openly or not for long. Social norms do not encourage vulnerability, particularly for men. You may already be feeling dependent on family or friends because of your disability, so to also need emotional support can feel like you are demanding even more. Because you care about how your disability has affected loved ones, you naturally want to be strong for them, to not cause them further pain by having to watch you suffer more. Seeing you cry can raise great fear—that you are not adjusting well or that you will continue to be dependent, maybe increasingly so. But if you need to cry, do. Your loved ones may have just as much a need to cry with you. Irving Zola wrote about people’s fear of crying:

 

[They believe] once started, it, like self-pity, will never stop. My own observation is that those people with an oversupply of tears are ones who have been unable to mourn their losses fully, especially when they first occurred. As a result they “leak” and mourn a little bit at a time.
1
Anger

 

Some features of early disability and rehab can understandably lead to angry feelings. The future can seem ruined, you have to submit to the care of strangers, who often must perform invasive, undignified medical or personal care procedures—sometimes with a cavalier attitude. This often feels like a loss of control and dignity. These feelings need not necessarily occur, but you might have thoughts, such as:

 

This isn’t fair.
Why did this happen to me?
It was my fault. How could I have been so stupid to let this happen?
It was their fault, and I will hate them forever for what they did to me—or didn’t do to protect me.
I will never have the life I wanted, so nothing can be okay now.
You have the power to decide how to express the anger, and how to face the source of it so that you can move on with your life. It’s exhausting to go through life angry.

 

I’m a C4-5 quadriplegic. It takes way too much energy to get through the typical day living with my disability to be spending the bulk of that energy on hostility, denial, and rebellion.
You will also find yourself in situations that will likely arouse anger. There will be people who will speak to your companions on your behalf rather than directly addressing you. You might be left waiting for the wheelchair you need because your insurance is refusing to pay. You might be trying to find an apartment to rent and discover how few meet your access needs. The list goes on.
If you use a wheelchair, your anger—no matter what its source—is often seen as bitterness about your disability. Carol Gill explains:

 

I think anger is one of those emotions that gets interpreted by outsiders in the context of what they think about us in general. It’s been said that when a man is aggressive in his profession he’s considered a go-getter, but when a woman is aggressive she’s a bitch. I think those same contextual interpretations exist for people with disabilities. If a nondisabled person was told, “You can’t get into this store, we’re not going to move this box so you can get down this aisle,” they would become angry and leave the store in a huff. That would be considered justified. But if a disabled person got equally angry about not having access to that store, he would be viewed as having a chip on his shoulder.
Even if you never see people from these encounters again, they might interpret your behavior as bitter—the “angry cripple”—another widely held social stereotype. Learning to manage anger will not only save you a lot of trouble, it will help foster an accurate perception of people with disabilities in the broader community. Managing anger does not mean keeping quiet. It means recognizing you are angry before your anger gets out of control and knowing that you have a choice about how to express it.
When you are angry—for whatever reason—you might feel like screaming, throwing things, or hurting yourself or others, actions most people associate with anger. Since these expressions are not socially acceptable, many people will instead suffer in silence, repressing their emotions. But anger that is held in has a way of finding its way out, often in subtle ways you may not notice. You might begin to be more cynical or sarcastic, or more of a tease—which can be a disguised form of attack. You might begin to drive more aggressively or start hitting the keys of your computer keyboard harder. Many people with disabilities throw their legs—such as while getting into or out of bed—or fail to be as gentle as necessary in bowel and bladder management. These subtle ways of venting pent-up anger can be harmful to you.
Fortunately, there are healthful ways of expressing anger, although they may take practice. For instance, you can talk about your anger with people you trust, making it clear that your anger is your experience and not about them—that you need to vent. This paraplegic man in his 20s, now a social worker in a major rehab center, describes learning that lesson the hard way:

 

I was really into being a tough guy at the time I was injured, so I felt that I couldn’t let people run my life once I broke my back. I really put my family through a lot of hell, but then I realized I was just stuck in a trap. One day I got on the phone and called a lot of people and apologized. They let me know that it sure wasn’t fun to be treated badly when I was rude to them, but they tried their best to understand. It helped clear the air, and we’re all the closer now for having talked about it.
When you’re feeling explosive—and not in the mood for a heart-to-heart chat with anyone—you can channel your anger into some physical activity. If you’re able to exercise, that can release a lot of angry tension. Other ways to physically release anger are to throw darts or blow up balloons and then pop them, all the while reciting the reasons for your wrath. Sometimes your only outlet is your voice. If it helps you feel better, go ahead and yell, but make sure anyone in hearing range knows that you’re not in danger—nor is anyone else. Or you can sing. As strange as it sounds, singing when you’re angry not only releases energy, but makes you feel better. You can even make up your own angry words to popular melodies. Use creativity as an outlet for anger that works for you.
Anger doesn’t have to be full blown. Living with a disability can make your life harder at times, and being frustrated is a logical reaction.

 

If I’m having problems transferring [to and from my chair] and I’m exhausted and it’s hard for me, it means I’m having a bad day like anyone can. People with disabilities have those day-to-day frustrations, too.
When I feel angry and most frustrated about being disabled, it is almost invariably when I’m trying to be too nondisabled. Say I’m putting on a dinner party, which is pretty difficult for a quadriplegic to do. If something goes wrong, I get pretty frustrated. Now, someone might say that it means I really hate being disabled, but I say, “What was I trying to do!?” It’s frustrating when you get caught up in the expectations of what you think you’re supposed to be able to do. When I’m having a bad day, it’s not because I hate having a disability.

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