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Please tell me how I’m not handicapped

Please tell me now I’m not handicapped and can’t use the disabled parking.

I DESERVE my handicapped parking that comes with my disability tag. (No, I didn’t steal it from my grandma.) But since I look “healthy” go ahead and tell me I’m not handicapped…

Please tell me how I’m not handicapped when it takes all my spoons to dress myself and the droplets of water from my shower still feel like tiny knives. Please tell me I’m not handicapped when I smile all day long, work a full time scientific research job, and drive in a metropolitan area to contribute to pursue my passion and contribute to bettering this world despite pain every moment of the day. Tell me I’m not handicapped when some days I barely have enough spoons to keep myself standing upright much less my eyes fully open, despite being fully awake. Tell me how I’m not handicapped when my leg gives out during the most inopportune times: like when on a job interview, with clients, or out with new friends who don’t know about my disease yet. Tell me I’m not handicapped when I have to suffer in pain due to the opioid crisis and can’t get any proper (even non-opioid or narcotic) treatment. Tell me I’m not handicapped when the infusion center nurses know my name and struggles as I’m there every week for at least a 2 hour infusion through my chest port (a port I’d like to point out that goes directly to my heart). Tell me I’m not handicapped when I have my doctors on my contacts favorites list and much of my time is spent in waiting rooms, doctor offices, or various diagnostic rooms. Tell me I’m not handicapped when I scream and sob all night long to just have my crps nerve damaged arm and leg cut off when they cold-burn so badly in pain I don’t think I will survive until morning.

Go ahead after all that tell me I’m not handicapped, because I don’t look like it.

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