by Jenny Blaser
This is my most recent narrative. It is one that I am still living and experiencing in a number of ways. It is a story that undoubtedly will shape the person who I currently am and define how I continue to grow and live my life. I want to share it because it is a story not often told – one of disability, sickness, pain, support, and change. This is a story of forever shifting needs and mobility and how I have come to experience it as a Deaf, Disabled, Queer, young Woman. I hope to use my story and my experiences to open up a dialogue about support systems, internalization, mourning, pain, institutionalization and privilege within marginalization and oppressive systems.
The story starts with me sitting in exam room two. It’s my family doctor’s office — a monotonous space that I have come to know quite well. The nurse is across from me talking me through the injection process. I am paying close attention, cross referencing what she says to the information I remember from the video I had watched. I am acutely aware that I am expected to do this to myself someday soon. My guide dog, Penny, has her head on my lap and I stroke her to help ease my anxiety. The nurse picks up the small insulin needle and explains to me how you pull air into the syringe, inject into the vial, and then draw up the solution into the syringe. The solution in question is methotrexate — a chemotherapy drug used in low doses to treat rheumatologic diseases. This was my next step towards achieving Behcet’s disease remission. Or so I thought.
Before we keep going with this one, you may want a bit of background knowledge …
Behcet’s disease is a rare autoimmune vasculitis that affects less than one in 1 million in North America. (more inside…)












