What do you see when my husband pushes me in my wheelchair?
Who do you see when you talk over my head to whomever is with me?
What do you see when I stutter and can't get my words out?
What do you see when I slur my words?
What do you see when my hands shake as I pass you the money to pay for something?
What do you see when I stagger and stumble?
What do you see when I struggle to get on a bus?
What do you see when I can't get out of a chair?
What do you see when I use my own cutlery in a restaurant?
What do you see when I ask you to repeat yourself?
What do you see when I pick up carrier bags full of medication from the pharmacy?
What do you see when I have to cancel plans or commitments?
When you look at my husband with pity in your eyes when he pushes me in my wheelchair you fail to see the love and passion he has for me. The rock that holds our relationship together.
When you talk over my head you fail to see the intelligent woman who wants to take part in the conversation.
When you get impatient finishing off my sentences because I stutter and can't get the right words out you don't see the frustration and embarrassment I feel.
When you look at me with disregard assuming I am drunk because I slur my words, stagger or stumble you don't feel the massive wave of fatigue or pain that I am battling every day.
When you laugh or roll your eyes when I struggle to get on the bus you have missed an opportunity to help someone who would appreciate it more than you know.
When you see me struggling to get out of a chair you don't appreciate the struggle to complete the simplest of tasks.
When you snigger at my 'kids cutlery' in the restaurant you don't see the woman who wants to go out with her hubby and family and do the 'normal' things.
When you get narky when I ask you to repeat something you forget that I am missing 60% of my hearing and I am truly interested in what you have to say. I'm not stupid I'm deaf.
When you stare and pass comments about druggies when I collect bags of medication you miss the fact that those meds keep the pain at bay and reduce my immune system to stop this disease attacking my body.
When you say "I knew she wouldn't come" when I reluctantly cancel plans, you don't see the struggle to get out of bed, get dressed, brush my hair, get to wherever we were going....
Look past the disability, the cover on the book. If you spend a little time and read further than the blurb you will see a woman who had hopes, dreams and a career. A woman who has multiple autoimmune illnesses but has achieved a great deal....gained a degree, played in orchestras, ridden horses, travelled, completed marathons, loves to read, loves to learn, loves history, has a passion for raising awareness. A woman who has a wonderful loving and supportive family who don't see the illness or disability. A person who wants to be included but has more challenges than you will ever realise. A person who battles pain, fatigue, grinding joints, dislocating joints, swelling, numbness, deafness, brain fog to name but a few. I still have hopes and dreams but these have changed over time. Look a little deeper and you will see we're not that different after all.
