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

Category: Health

Disabled Chronicles, No.2d1

There was a taped interview I did locally when my art was presented at the gallery last year. I got dressed and showed up that day, sure that my hat and winter shawl were all in place. Camera pointed at me, mic catching my lilting voice, charm on fully – the interview went well. The videographer assured me he’d send a link once the clip was compiled. When the link arrived some days later, I eagerly watched it, waiting for

Disabled Chronicles, No. 977764784

Those three weeks you spent trying to find a place to get a pedicure and all you kept getting were tacit, ‘No. we can’t do that here’ responses. But you’ve come to expect as much and just keep trying. You tried today, hopeful you’ll find a place and look forward to feeling pretty and taken care of, only to be given two more No’s to add to the self-esteem devouring weeks you’ve been having. You just stop, mid-voyage and silently

Disabled Chronicles, No.2d

Disabled Chronicles, No.2D: I glanced at the image the fluoroscope captured on screen: my neck, right side extended and exposed; vertebra like puzzle pieces, spaced out. The faint outline of the base of my skull, my jaw… was that my chin? The earring of my left ear shown dark against the shadowy soft tissue forms of my neck and head. Love, there was this moment of Love for this this beautiful, misshapen body and all that it’s managed to see

Disabled Chronicles, No.68643

My body has been moved and manipulated by many pairs and sets of gloved hands over the last few months. New hands, unsure hands, cold ones, warm ones. Hands with chipped Tiffany blue polish blurred through the vinyl of the gloves, some with watches, most with no jewelry at all. I generally just lay there, waiting for them to decide on where and how much they should move or adjust or bend my arms and legs and torso, even after

Disabled Chronicles, No.2c

UPDATE: Spinraza Injection No.3: I wonder if this is what it was like to be made in the image of G-d that first time: glorious, innovative, sacred. Because what was not mentioned in all the awe-inspiring verklemptness of it all, is that it’s a bit painful and quite uncomfortable. With Loading dose No.2, toward the tail end of the wait period before No.3, there was this swath of muscle, from the back of my right calf, across the outer side,