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#joint pain
justabunny · 3 days
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unpopular opinion but mobility aids shouldn't cost so much !!
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standing…..for two hours…….with a condition that means my blood Does Not Do Its Job……..i am not a fan
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You know, as someone who is physically disabled both by my autism and other disorders, it's really upsetting that every assistive device I look into is marketed solely for elderly people. Canes? For the elderly. Walkers for bad days? For the elderly. Bibs because I'm sick and tired of getting food on my shirts? For the elderly. Shower stool? For the elderly. Like. There's so many people who aren't elderly that need these things too, it's not super fun being a younger adult and never seeing people like me on the assistive devices I need. To be frank, it kinda turns me off from buying them. Like "well I'm not elderly or that disabled so do I actually even need this?" It's just frustrating
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chronicallydragons · 2 months
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anyone else ever wish they could lie down harder? Like, I'm already horizonal, but I need more horizonal. I need to be absorbed by the floor. I think that would fix me
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stellaltumi · 1 month
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stop villanizing disabled people. stop assuming we're just being lazy. stop assuming we could be trying harder. stop assuming that we'll "feel better" in a few weeks. stop assuming that we have the same energy levels as everyone else. thanks for coming to my ted talk.
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snakeskinass · 8 months
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they should invent joints that dont hurt
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drifting-bones · 5 months
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they should invent walking that doesn't make you feel like you're going to keel over and die
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leighsartworks216 · 7 months
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You Hate Me
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Sooooo I wrote this one morning when even just laying down had my knees hurting and I was like,, well what if Tav had that too? Also inspired by the fact I get to campus an hour early and still try to rush to the (empty) classroom instead of, ya know, taking advantage of the huge time buffer I give myself
Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention
Word Count: 1,545
Masterlist
AO3
Just a bit further. A little further and then you could rest. If you make it to that tree - make it to that tree and you can sit down. Just a bit left to go.
It started almost a week ago. Unable to cope with all the traveling, your right knee started bothering you. With every step you could feel your kneecap shifting back and forth with a dull click. Then, it started to hurt. Nothing serious. If you walked slow enough, you could avoid it. But now every step sent shocks of pain up your entire leg. Your left knee joined the party this morning, removing any sense of relief you had while walking. Even sitting down didn't remove the pain, but you couldn't afford a day off.
Your companions noticed the changes, despite your best effort not to show any outward discomfort. You moved slower, the occasional grimace slipped through, they weren't traveling quite as far. You consider asking Shadowheart for anything that could ease the pain, but you already knew there was little she could do to help. So you grit your teeth and kept going.
Your foot stepped on uneven ground and you nearly dropped from the agony that shot through your whole body. Karlach worried you might actually just collapse. But you kept going.
Astarion couldn't bear it. None of them could - they hated seeing their intrepid leader fight their own body just to go a few more feet - but your struggle settled like a boulder in his stomach. Every time your face scrunched up, every hiss of your sharp inhales, felt like someone had stabbed a knife in his chest and was twisting it ever deeper. He hated the feeling.
With only a few long strides, he slipped from the back of the group to the front, walking alongside you. He had to change his normal gait just so he didn't surpass you. "Darling," he hummed quietly, just loud enough to keep the conversation between you two, "you should rest."
You shook your head. You didn't even spare him a glance. Your eyes didn't shift from the tree. "We're almost there," you dismiss. It's slightly breathless. Despite needing to walk slow to avoid the pain, you were pushing to go faster.
He tsked. "And how far do we still have left to go?" He tilted his head as he looked at you, already knowing whatever distance you said would be too far.
You nodded to a tree dead ahead. "Once we reach that birch, we can rest."
"That birch?" He pointed. "The birch tree that's nearly half a mile away?"
He could feel you bristle with his incredulous tone, but you didn't say anything.
He scoffed. "My dear, I can be stubborn at the best of times, but this is ridiculous! You're barely staying upright as it is."
"I'm fine-"
"No, you're not," he sharply cuts you off. He grabs your arm and pulls you to a stop, holding you there with enough force that you wouldn't slip out and keep going. You refuse to look at him even now. "You're wincing, your hands have been clenched for the last mile, and you keep stumbling. The tree will still be there if you just sit down for a minute."
The rest of the party watches from a distance. Far enough away they can just make out what Astarion's saying, especially as his voice rises in pitch the more frustrated he gets.
Standing still hurts. It's hard to say if it hurts more or less than walking; it just hurts. Your face is pinched as sharp jolts run up through your joints, like someone is poking you with a sewing needle. Walking, you decide, must be better than this.
"It's not that far," you insist, voice low. "And when we get there, we can-"
"Gods above, you're impossible! Fine. Fine! You want to get to that tree, fine." He lets go of your arm.
Before you can even take a step, he's sweeping you into his arms, supporting you with one arm under your back and the other hooked under your knees. The pressure hurts for a moment, but it quickly fades away. The lingering aches are from pushing yourself too hard. He begins marching once more toward your end goal.
You want to shout, to demand he put you down. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are sharper than usual, lips pulled into a tight frown and crease forming between his eyebrows. He's angry.
He's angry with you.
The words die in your throat. You hate being so dependent. You were the leader - you needed to be strong and fearless and without weakness. To receive help feels like someone plunging their hand between your ribs and stealing away a chunk of your worth. But seeing Astarion upset, upset with you, that stings far worse.
You avoid looking over his shoulder. You could just imagine their faces. How Lae'zel would scowl at you for being weak. How Gale's face would turn somber when he realizes you're not as capable as he thought. You couldn't bear it. So you press your forehead to Astarion's neck and stare at your lap.
There's an unwelcome burn at the back of your eyes. Shame floods your chest and crawls up your throat until it chokes you. Water pools along your lower lids and blurs your vision. You can't walk and now you're going to cry. Just how fucking pathetic can you be?
Astarion's head shifts and you can tell he's trying to look down at you. He's trying to see your face. Because he can feel you shaking in his arms. He can hear your lungs quivering as your breaths become uneven and choppy. You press your closed eyes against his throat and he can feel the hot tears against his skin.
His frown softens, though you can't see it. He slows down to a stop and tells the others to go on ahead, to the birch tree just there, and start working on setting up camp, but all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. Their faces become fraught with worry; Karlach is the last to go. She still looks back once or twice. Astarion finds a suitable rock and he sits.
"Shh, sweet thing," he cooes, voice no louder than a whisper. His arm around your back pulls you into his shoulder, hand tangling in your hair as he cradles you. His other hand rubs soothing circles along your thigh. You gasp around a sob, body curling further into itself, into him, as you release your emotions. "It's alright."
You strangle out an apology. It's wet and croaky and painful.
"Whatever for?" he asks.
"You're mad at me," you whimper.
He huffs. The frustration from before rises in him again just thinking about it. "Yes, I am."
He feels your breath catch in your throat, and the heaving breath you take after. "You hate me."
Astarion laughs, short and sharp. "Why would I hate you, dear? Because you're too stubborn for your own good?" You don't have a response for him. He kisses your head, wherever he can reach. "I'm mad because you put yourself out trying to solve all of our issues, but the moment you have one of your own, you refuse any help. You're going to tear yourself apart."
He sighs and rests his cheek atop your head. His fingers rub the nape of your neck, gently tugging at the hair there. You carry so much tension, it's a wonder your muscles haven't locked up from the stress.
Time passes slowly in his arms. It seems to take forever before you start to calm down, and even longer before your eyes have dried. He does nothing to speed the process aside from gently hush you when you try to choke out apologies.
You sniffle quietly. Your eyes are raw, and you're all too aware of the stain of water you've left on the vampire's neck. When you speak, it's a painful creak in your vocal chords. "You don't hate me?"
He presses another kiss to your head. "No, love, I don't hate you. Not unless you've done something truly horrific, like invite a clown to show up at camp in the middle of the night." You chuckle weakly. It's such sweet music. "Gods forbid you start donating to charity." You laugh this time, and Astarion's chuckle vibrates against your ear.
His fingers detangle themselves from your hair with one last gentle tug, and his arm wraps around your back once more. As though you weigh no more than one of his pillows, he stands once more with you in his safe grasp, and begins heading for camp. He can see Karlach up ahead light up when she sees you're finally on your way.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I just feel so... useless, like this."
"Please, stop apologizing," he begs, dramatically. "Just say 'thank you' and we can move on."
You peel your face from his skin, dried tears sticking you together. You wince at how disgusting this must be for him. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He smiles at the affection. "Thank you."
Softer, he says, "Of course, my love."
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audhdnight · 8 months
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Just thinking about the common experience of late diagnosed disabled people of “the normal amount of pain is none” and how we’re just supposed to know that despite *some* level of pain being OUR normal for our entire lives, even if it’s usually not super bad it’s just always there.
Thinking about how, when I told my mother this, she asked me “So what’s hurt?” Which is very different than “what hurts?”
I looked at her, confused. “Nothing is hurt. I just hurt.”
And she says “But where do you hurt?”
“Well, right now it’s my stomach and my ankles-“
She cuts me off. “So you twisted your ankle?”
“No,” I say. “My ankles just hurt. I’ve been walking today.”
Now it’s her turn to look confused. “Just walking doesn’t make your ankles hurt. You must have sprained them or something.”
But I shake my head. “Nope. This just happens on days when I walk more than a little bit. My ankles hurt first, then my knees by lunch time. And if I don’t take a nap and stay on my feet all day, my hips will be hurting too.”
“Oh.”
Joint pain is my normal. Sometimes, if I barely walk all day, the ache in my ankles is barely noticeable and doesn’t affect my functioning because I’m used to it. If I do what most able-bodied people would consider to be a “normal” amount of walking, almost all of my joints will hurt by supper. If I have to wash dishes or run any errands, I’ll hurt so bad I can’t walk for the rest of the day.
Then there’s the chronic migraine attacks. I used to have them multiple times a week as a child, and no matter how I explained myself, nobody ever understood that they weren’t just headaches. I experienced those too, and frequently, but they were not the same. Thankfully, at the age of eleven, I found an article explaining migraine triggers. I was able to identify a few of my own triggers, and the frequency of my migraine attacks reduced to maybe a couple a month. For a few years I was basically on cloud nine, I’d never experienced such a lack of pain before and it was so freeing. Unfortunately, migraine is a progressive condition, so the attacks have gotten more frequent over the years.
And then there’s the “random” pains. Some mornings I wake up and my stomach hurts. Or my chest. Or my back. These are just things I have to live with, because my body’s connective tissue is… well, for lack of a better word, faulty. And I never knew that other people didn’t experience this, because how could I? We never talked about it. Sometimes I’d hear people complain about back aches and just assume they were like mine. Of course, I knew that injuring yourself could cause muscle aches, obviously. But I just assumed that *most* of the time, other peoples bodies hurt like mine did. I didn’t realize that humans aren’t supposed to “just hurt” without a connected incident.
And when I try to explain this to able bodied people, their response is always the same. “Well, everyone’s back hurts sometimes.” “Everybody gets headaches sometimes.” “You’re not special just because you’re too lazy to walk. I still go to work when I don’t feel good.” And no matter how many times I try to say that No, you don’t get it, I *always* hurt, they still brush me off and dismiss me.
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justabunny · 2 days
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can we stop making things meant for disabled people a trend and making it 100x harder for disabled people to actually be able to get the things they need?? please?
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“surely this will not cause my chronic illness to flare up,” i say, actively doing something that has never failed to flare my chronic illness
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humans are space orcs
imagine someone with chronic joint pain, whose dream their whole lives has been to go to space and meet the aliens and be a scientist and learn
so they look up the requirements as a kid and go "fuck."
they wouldn't make the cut.
their dreams are dashed. hopes ruined. lifelong dre destroyed.
except....
they've never really said a whole lot about their pain. they don't particularly like doctors, and they think that they've been managing just fine, so they never saw the point.
so maybe... maybe if they just don't say anything, they can make it to space.
they spend all of their time training. doing physical therapy exercises so that their joints aren't so loose, soaking up as much scientific and mathematical knowledge as they can, teaching themselves to push through the worst of it in pursuit of their dream.
and they make it.
they make it to space! it was gruelling, tortuous work, but they made it!
their first mission is an exploratory one, with a diverse crew which only has one other human.
they're thrilled.
they have dozens of alien friends and acquaintances. they spend hours learning and researching alien planets and cultures. it's everything they've ever wanted!
but
it's exhausting.
they're in more pain than they've ever been, more frequently than they ever have.
they keep up their exercises as best they can, but even those are often too much.
they smile when asked if they're alright, tell everyone that "i'm fine! just tired."
but they need a break. they can't imagine going or being sent back to earth, this is their home now, with these people, on this ship. but they don't know how much longer they can take this.
one day, on their day off, a fellow researcher comes and knocks on their door.
"are you here?"
"not today islith."
"but we've been called! there are some exciting new discoveries that need further cataloging and investigation, and carlmoth thought you would enjoy the task!"
"i can't today, islith."
"are you ill?"
"...kind of? but i'll be right as rain tomorrow. it's my day off anyhow."
"nonsense! you should go down to medbay!"
"i'm alright, i promise."
"you get out here right this minute or i'll report you to medbay myself!"
"no!" there's a series of crashes and thumps, and then they open the door.
"oh, you look awful. come on, you really must need medbay, what if you're contagious." islith tries to grab them but they shy away.
"i'm not contagious, i promise."
"how can you possibly know that? what if you picked it up from a sample, or, or, garfon has been sick recently! humans can't survive cerian sicknesses-"
"i didn't catch something from garfon, islith," they sigh and open the door wider. "come in and let me explain."
"alright, but if i think you should go to medbay afterwards then i'm taking you there."
"sure, islith."
islith enters, notices the piles of clothes, rumpled bedsheets, the lights are off and the port window shut.
"what's wrong?"
they sigh again, "my body doesn't work like it's meant to, islith."
islith is wildly alarmed, "and you said there was no need for medbay?!? come with me right now and-"
"no! i can't, islith, you don't understand."
"then explain it to me."
"i've... always been this way, although it's gotten worse as i've gotten older. my body, it just isn't built quite right, there's something wrong with it that makes it not work properly and hurt often."
"you're right, i don't understand. why can't you go to medbay?"
"i'd... be thrown off the ship."
"what?!?"
and so they tell islith a story about a young child whose dream was to touch the stars.
"and now, it's too late. i'd get in huge trouble for lying to the government, especially for so long."
"well- but- but humans are so resilient! you hear all the stories!"
"not every human is the same, islith. some of us are born disabled, and some of us get hurt in accidents, just like any other species."
"well, then, well there must be something we can do?"
they look up in shock, "we?"
"of course we, you ridiculous creature," islith said with a fond sigh. "you didn't think i'd leave you to suffer, would you?"
"but, you could get in so much trouble!"
"that's alright, i don't mind. what else are friends for? and, anyway, we don't have to tell your government, we can tell mine."
"but i'll-"
"we don't have any rules like that. any of us who are disabled can still manage in space just fine with the right support, and i bet you could too."
"i- islith- i don't-"
"don't worry, we'll all back you when it comes down to it. you're out teammate, our family. no one on this ship wants to watch you leave because of something you can't control. now come on, let's talk to glidlep in medical, she'll understand."
and for years, things continued on that way, until eventually it was an open secret that the human with the exosuit was disabled and not technically allowed onboard.
and down the line, when nasa found out and was furious, the entire ship and more stood by their side.
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hes-a-plant · 9 months
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K yall im tired and in pain and also curious.
Pick one. Yes, just one, I know it’s hard.
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prehistoric-faggot · 10 months
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‼️please help me get a wheelchair‼️
hello, my name is leo, or more commonly known as ‘lav’ on here.
i’ve been dealing with debilitating chronic pain for over 10 years and i really need a wheelchair. i haven’t gotten much help from my healthcare system, being fat and afab has really fucked me over while trying to seek medical attention..
i am still fighting to completely figure out what’s wrong with me, but for now i know that i have several bulging discs in my lower back, as well as scoliosis. (as well as medically recognised POTS).
my pain is getting worse and worse, and i barely leave my home since walking and being upright in general hurts so much. a wheelchair would improve my life immensely, both physically and mentally.
i am currently on disability benefits, which pretty much is the lowest income group in sweden, and saving up for a wheelchair myself would take a very long time.. i will of course also be saving up as much as i can and putting into an account meant for wheelchair funds.
so i’m asking you to donate if you want to and if you are financially able to, and if not, please reblog this.
i have found a good chair that is also accessible to a fat person, and i need 7111 SEK (around 650$) to cover the cost of the chair & the shipping. i have started a gofundme that i’ll be sharing in this post, and i welcome all help, donating just a little helps, and reblogging and sharing the gofundme in general helps immensely too.
thank you so much for reading💜
EDIT: GOAL HAD BEEN REACHED. THANK YOU SO MUCH
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youngpeachenthusiast · 3 months
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oh by the way!! yesterday morning i saw someone my age walking with a cane while i was going to school. it was the first time and it was really quite exciting!
i haven't really needed my cane in a while now but seeing other young people using one really makes me feel less alone <3
this is your reminder that if you are young and going out in public with a mobility aid there probably will be some seemingly able-bodied kid watching you and feeling less alone. and just maybe they might try taking their aid outside, someday.
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