I seem to have launched a discussion a few posts ago about comparing disabilities when I said “Autistic? Screw you. I’d kill for a kid that was autistic.” Let me take that a bit further …
I would rather be deaf than blind. I don’t think I will ever have a choice, and the exercise is academic, but the fact is, I think one is less onerous than the other. I would rather be a paraplegic than have uncontrolled epilepsy. Hence, I can “rank” disabilities. Would I rather have a child that is autistic or has an in-born error of metabolism of a certain amino acid? I can voice an opinion.
It does get much harder when there are multiple disabilities. Would I rather be deaf with epilepsy or blind and have a g-tube? Now the discussion gets a bit bizarre and I need not go further, except to say that when talking about multiple disabilities, the combinations are infinite and the comparisons are impossible.
I can also say that I would take any disability that is not genetically inheritable for my child than any one that is. Sophie, of A Moon, Worn As If It Had Been a Shell, can walk and has some forms of communication, but has many break-through seizures (and is severely disabled). Pearlsky has no communication, cannot walk, but does not really have break-through seizures much anymore. Would I trade? Again, a moot question and one not easy to answer. BUT, Sophie has two seemingly wonderful brothers, “normal” brothers. Pearlsky, alas has no “normal” sibling. That I would trade. Of that, I am jealous. I chose to marry into a gene pool that unfortunately did not match mine (actually, matched it too well). We all make mistakes … but I would greatly have preferred an non-genetic based disability. David, my son, would have preferred that as well, I am sure.
As parents of “this” population, I agree, we can’t really compare. And yes, we must support each other.
Another reason we cannot compare has a lot has to do with our own level on the universal shit-o-meter. Let’s say that due to my upbringing, beliefs, education, spirituality, experiences, etc. I can handle up to an 8 on the universal shit-o-meter. At that point I collapse into a quivering heap on the floor and need a Pearlsky-tini to continue (three parts VOX vodka, one part Valium (brand, not generic), chilled). You, on the other hand, may reach quivering-heap-on-the-floor status at a 6 on the universal shit-o-meter. Does not make you less of a person? No, just different. So, your 6 is actually equal in pain to you as my 8 is to me. Your life seems easy to me, I wonder why you can’t deal and may envy your situation where you think my life is beyond impossible, but the truth is we both feel an equivalent level of pain, we have the same level of angst.
The point? You should not feel bad that you have it easier and can’t deal, and I should not think you a wimp for not being able to deal with something I would find easy. Life is not comparable like that. Severe disabilities are not comparable. Shit is shit, though.
Yet, I can still legitimately be envious of your problems.
“You and your friends get together. Everyone puts their problems on the table. When you look at them all, you’ll take back your own.” ~ my maternal grandmother, Pearl, and boy do I miss her.
The grass may be greener, but I guess I like mine brown.