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

Tag: spinraza

Disabled Chronicles – Covid19 Edition, No.21

He was late. I hung around the TeleHealth conference room 20 minutes past my 3:30pm appointment. I checked if I had connected correctly, followed all the procedures… and I had. It wasn’t me, it was Him. So I waited some more. A very bored but familiar lead doctor popped up on my screen, followed by a very quiet secondary Fellow I had never met. We exchanged pleasantries and I was informed the Neurologist (in charge of the SMA Clinic overseeing

Disabled Chronicles, No2e1

I casually came to know his name. He was next up to get dosed after my trial at the hospital. When I bid my awesome nurses goodbye until my next maintenance dose, I cheered on Joe (not his real name) and wished him (in absentia) and the team of nurses well and good luck. If the medication worked half as well for him as it did for me, I knew what kind of life changing experiences he was lined up

Disabled Chronicles, No.2e

Her finger landed in the space between my eyes gently, like a soft cat paw, sending a hush of quiet energy through my body and mind. “In meditation they tell Us to tap and focus here…” She couldn’t have known about the year I spent in meditation study under the Sant Mat tradition with Steve. And how before he doula’d us into the sacred silence of meditation following the teachings of Saint Kirpal Singh, he’d touch the same space between

Disabled Chronicles, No.2d2

After Spinraza injections, the ‘floaties’ in my eyes appear like straight lengths of ‘string’ with an impressive knot in the middle. Uniform, peculiar as my ‘normal’ floaties go, which are bendy, twisted affairs, beautiful in their organic go at existence. Plentiful when I am sick and sparse when I am properly hydrated. These ‘new’ style of floaties cut across my vision, like slow moving cargo ships, pregnant with genetically modified packages for my body. I notice them most the next

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

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