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Sandra Jean-Pierre

Tag: courage

Disabled Chronicles, No. 4

I spent the better part of that day saying his name and then uttering an angry curse right after. Or vice versa – which ever came to mind first: the curse or the thought of him. I lamented that, now who was I going to be buying shampoo or mens’ summer shorts for?… after I had spent the night prior planning out my next months’ shopping list. The empty feeling whistled through me much like how I felt after my


I just finished reading Hannah Hart’s book, Buffering: Tales Of A Life Fully Loaded (that’s an affiliate link btw) and I am sitting here triggered as fuck. It’s not that it wasn’t a great book – it is. It’s not that it was too graphic – it wasn’t. It’s just that I saw myself and some of my prior situations in so much of her words and in such a different light, that I get why folks get all glassy-eyed

Disabled Chronicles, No.213

PLEASE tell me why in the year 2016 that there are some folks working in the food service industry that STILL DON’T know how to handle their disabled customers? Lemme help y’all out: If I am coming to your establishment WITH US currency visible IN MY HAND, your response should NOT be: A) to ignore my tapping on your door to let me in by pretending to be so involved with that one customers order, B) nor should your response

Disabled Chronicles, No. 653

… So my pared down, three page complaint letter against the CNA who was unconcerned and negligent about my care as a Special Needs patient my last hospital stint? Just got a call back from the hospital that the CNA is being sent to training so that she can essentially get some bedside manners and re-learn how to properly take vitals. While she is sitting in those CNA remedial classes, I hope she remembers me. I hope she remembers WHY

Disabled Chronicles, No.93876

Chronicles Of Being Disabled, Entry #93876: Having been properly packed and sent off by Publix’s very own Abuelita, I make my way to the bus stop. I would NOT be stopping at Starbucks for coffee, I would NOT meander and loiter in these Sunday streets. I just wanted to get on home. As I approached the bus shelter, I spied a Little Person. He is a black gentleman that I have seen take this very same bus, quite often. Though