Just one perspective from having a disability.
Sliding the door open with equipment in tow the routine begins. Pulling back the bed covers they fold the hoist sling in half, place it behind my back pulling it through to flip me over. The beached whale awakes from her slumber. Rolling me to one side they remove my PJ’s. They’ve done it so many times now it’s become second nature. I’m sure they no longer study my pubic hair or gasp at the size of my stomach. Do they cringe when removing my incontinence garment?
Listening to the hoist groan while placing me in an upright position, they plonk me on the shower commode. I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes. Having to help someone else become presentable to the world is a tough call. They’ve seen so many bodies now that I’m sure mine is just like washing a car – except I have feelings, small feet, and large boobs.
If you liked this you might like a piece I just finished writing that is related: “One Pea is Too Many“
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