A Story of Pink Challenges

Can you hear the roar in the distance?  Maybe you can see the signs, the slight back tilt of the head to read the newspaper, the gals with flushed faces for no apparent reason, the slightly receding hairlines of our boys'’ beautiful locks, or the doctor who is telling us that those hips we used to slam together with complete abandon in Club '70 may soon need replacing.  Yes, the medium age of the general population is now 50, and accordingly, our LGBT demographic who celebrates youth and beauty, is tagging right along (with or without our permission)

Somehow, just a thought, I think our fabulous LGBT week could reflect a few of these changes.  How do I have the inside scoop on these issues? I was an unwilling invite into the club of degenerative disease.  At 25 I was nursing at the Misericordia Hospital when I began to have some vision problems.  The staff doctor there sent me directly to a neurologist.  Within days I was sitting in his office hearing the diagnosis of multiple sclerosis.  I must have looked a fright, because the neurologist walked me to my car and poured me in. 

I returned home to call my dear girlfriend, Jill.  She left work early with a bundle of flowers.  In my mind, this occasion called for alcohol, and lots of it.  We comforted each other and phoned the world, as I remember, to tell them the sad news.

I later began to pace the floor feeling I just had to escape for some reason (probably  from my own skin).  Jill did not drive so we travelled from the south side to the north.  SLAM.  Head on in the old rat hole, me a Honda and the other a small truck.

Upon consciousness returning, with broken ribs and legs, I felt a sense of gratitude to be alive sweeping over me, so as they say, maybe everything happens for a reason.  I truly do believe that now.  So many things have happened since that time - a planned pregnancy, difficult birth, return to school, move to southern Alberta and the death of a disabled father in 1989.  He fell victim to the plague of the '50s, polio. At any rate, my father was a prince of a human being who taught me many life lessons in preparation for my own disability.

Since returning to Edmonton I have spent seven years on the Disabled Adult Transportation Board as a user member.  I have also spent five years on the Advisory Board for Persons With Disabilities to City Council.  I picked up tips and lessons on transportation, housing, communication, accessibility and much more.

Actually, being older (curses) and disabled affords me many lessons in an area which has a language all its own.  No, you don't need a Rosetta Stone, but a little tweaking to assist with what is coming (in tsunami-like proportions) would be advisable and maybe put us ahead of the curve. Just some of the obstacles: it is difficult to book DATS from our Pride Week calendar; the view to the stage is difficult from a wheelchair; north- south travel on the grounds is almost impossible (tipped twice only to be helped back up by many sweet people).

One of the challenges of aging?  The women I am attracted to came out the same year as I, except they came out of the womb when I was coming out of the closet.  Such is life.  It is what it is, but information frees us all from fear and most always provides the gift of hope.  I may share other little lessons I have picked up, but at another time.  Please feel free to share with me at [email protected]  any helpful tips.  

Marie Byggdin.