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Sandra Jean-Pierre | Digital Artist & Writer of Words.

Author: SandraJP

Celiac Chronicles, No.7465

That one time you ask your aide to make you multiple servings of the new Cream Of Rice cereal you found and that was purchased along side Bethany’s Cream Of Wheat… And though they were bagged together but in separate containers, your aide managed to grab the wrong box (and you didn’t even think to triple check to ensure she grabbed the correct one) and proceeded to make a whole 12 mini containers worth of the Cream Of Death so

Disabled Chronicles, No.2

The amount of advocating I’ve had to do for myself (and with some help) this past week has been astronomical. This has been on top of the normal fuckery people bring on the daily. It’s also made me weary. The landscape of my main condition has been shifting… for some time, if I’m honest. This past week was the reckoning. I advocated for new equipment, new services and other things besides. These recent days behind me, have been my main

Disabled Chronicles, No.7

The Set Up I’ve been putting off getting a new electric power wheelchair for well over a year. Okay, so it’s closer to 2/3-ish years.   I know, you’re thinking, ‘But isn’t your chair like, important?’ Extremely. My wheelchair operates like my legs. If I need to get something from the store, I use my wheelchair. When I need to go to the doctors office, I use my wheelchair. Gotta roll to the bathroom and brush my teeth? You got

Silent Detonation

Her hands were warm and firm as they held onto mine the first time we were meeting.  She knew to reach into my space to complete the connection.  Knew from the hours of calls logged, from the technical and medical explanations, knew from my recountings and stories of changing plateaus, that she would have to meet M(m)e more than half way.  And so, there she stood, exhausted from travel and maybe some self-conscious worry, holding both of my sun-browned SMA

Carry Her With Me

  I was cleaning out my purse and forgot that I carry Her with me. Her last rosary and two coins from our trip to France when I was a teenager. It surprised me to find these, even though I was the one who put them where they were. Opening the thinning Asian-style purse, the rosary came out in pieces. I don’t remember if it had always been like this or if the links gave way from prayers lost and

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