I went to my first fetish night event thing last night at my roommate/friend’s favorite club (Club Anything in Milwaukee). They have demonstrations through the night, and last night’s was suspension bondage, and there was some whipping and spanking.

I’ve been interested in BDSM for a while, but it was all based on stories and videos I’d seen online, so it was really awesome to finally see some of it in person.

I was really happy all night, and totally comfortable. It took me a while to figure out that it was because people weren’t staring at me because I’m an amputee. They were actually looking at me like I was not just a person, but an attractive person. It sounds melodramatic, but I seriously haven’t felt attractive in any way since the amputation. It wasn’t really because I felt that I couldn’t be attractive without my right leg, or the scars. It was the colostomy, the catheter, the way my skin was stretched and the fat was not evenly redistributed. It was spending two years with people, even people with the best intentions, looking at me like an oddity instead of as a person. They saw the disability or the cancer, they didn’t see ME. As soon as I stepped into this club I felt like my body wasn’t this brokenthingI happen to be attached to, but something that was beautiful. I felt pretty for the first time in two years.

I actuallystopped thinking. That’s been the biggest thing for me through all of this, that I was never able to forget about my problems for a while. No matter where I went or what I did, I had to plan it out to make sure Icoulddo it. I had to decide if my body was up for the crutches or if I had to use the wheelchair, whether I could use either and still get into a building, if my crutches would possibly get wet because then they slip on wood or linoleum floors, if I had backup supplies for my colostomy or catheter, what the seating would be like because hard seats hurt to sit on with half a pelvis… it goes on. I worried about all that on the way there, but as soon as I stepped into the building it finally stopped.

That would have been enough to make me want to go every day for the rest of my life, but then add the amazing people who were so easy to talk to, the great music… UGH. I could cry. Seriously. I still might. I’m still just so freaking happy about all of it.

I’m answering these both at once, because I’m pretty sure you’re the same person. I should clarify about the I Hate Everything post. I don’t mind people asking questions on here, because honestly I’m generally pretty open to talking about what happened to me. The issue is that it’s very different to have a complete stranger come up to you out of nowherein personwhen you’re doing something very unrelated (like grocery shopping or trying to have fun with your friends) and ask you about it. Let’s be honest, there aren’t exactly guidelines to follow in situations like this because it varies according to each person’s preferences. So, for me, I don’t mind talking about it here because my tumblr is about me and my life. I don’t like complete strangers coming up to me in person because then I’m not in a situation where I’m broadcasting about my life, I’m just trying to live my life. The confusion is totally understandable.

With all that said, here’s what happened to me: I have bone cancer. I was diagnosed in May 2009 with osteosarcoma. When I was diagnosed I already had a tumor the size of a football growing in my pelvis and some nodules in my lungs. I was on a lot of chemo for about a year in the hope that it would shrink the tumor a little and take of the nodules. The nodules were gone, but the tumor really didn’t shrink at all. The tumor had eaten through a lot of my pelvis, so when they removed it they had to amputate the right half of my pelvis. So technically there was nothing wrong with my right leg, but your right leg’s pretty useless without the pelvis and it would be really painful. So my entire right leg is gone, though they made me a bit of a stump so if I ever got a prosthetic there’d be something to attach it to. The prosthetic is never going to happen (there’s no muscle to move it with), but it does help keep up my underwear and pants.

The nodules keep coming back in my lungs, though, and after about three years I’m at my limit. I’m most likely stopping treatment after this summer, unless my mindset drastically changes during that time. I’ve had fourteen surgeries, more chemo then I want to think about, and there’s really no end in sight. So that’s the short version of the story.

I reallydon’t mind talking about it on here, it’s just in person when I’m minding my own business that it’s a problem for me. So if anyone has questions or anything, feel free to ask and I’ll try my best to answer.

I am not changing out of my pajama pants today. Good thing I’m not going anywhere.

incurablehippie:

flutterflyinvasion:

Society demands that we keep overcoming, overcoming, overcoming. But we don’t have to. Nowhere is it written that to be a really real human you have to brute force your way through your limits. Nowhere is it written that not doing so makes you less worthy. For most people, constantly refusing to acknowledge that you have limits is seen as a problem. We all have limits & we are supposed to acknowledge them, know where they are, work within them.

But when you have a disability, it’s like everyone expects you to push past your limits all the time. They want to be inspired, or they want to not have to deal with the fact that a disability means “there are things I cannot and will never be able to do”, even as they expect me to know there are things I can do that they will never be able to.

So we are pushed to keep ‘overcoming’, and if we can’t we are failures and lazy. But if we can, we aren’t really disabled. It’s a no win either way. Our choices are be burned out or be looked down on even more, be told we aren’t disabled because we can do xyz or because we can’t.

Brilliant.  That is all.

Re-reblogging for truth.

Fuck yes. My dad does this to me all the time, one particularly memorable email ended with him saying “They say it’s a permanent disability, but I don’t see how that would ever hold you back.”

…Really? Because I could list SO many ways. Like, number one, I can never have my dream job. I cannot work with big cats. You know why? BECAUSE I ONLY HAVE ONE LEG YOU FUCKHEAD. And oh yeah, the cancer will have killed me way before I could possibly get in a position to have a job like that. But clearly being an amputee with cancer would NEVER hold me back. That’s just from laziness! YOU’RE GONNA GO FAR, KID.

…Holy shit, I’m bitter.

(Source: djinnstorm)

This was my Halloween costume for a friend’s early costume party (for her birthday/early Halloween). I went as a not-amputee. We got a fake bloody foot from Halloween Express and I had it hanging out the bottom of my empty right pants leg (the string got tucked into my pocket later). It was especially great when I was walking and it would drag behind me and sometimes turn backwards.

I’m a classy lady.

bestrooftalkever:

Elephant Cast! 

A mahout removes the prosthetic from Motala, age 50, at the Friends of the Asian Elephant (FAE) elephant hospital in the Mae Yao National Reserve August 29, 2011 Lampang,Thailand. Motala lost a foot many years back after stepping on a land mine and now is on her third prosthetic, as they need to be changed according to the weight of the elephant. (Photo by Paula Bronstein/Getty Images)

This is beyond awesome.

sexisbeautiful:

homo-arigato:

femmethings:

orangepillsss

(via sexisnottheenemy)

I love this picture. 

 lip bitttiiinggg.

I definitely almost missed the fact that she’s an amputee. This just completely made my day, because I’m an amputee as well (right leg) and was just talking about how rare it is to find an attractive AND tasteful picture of an amputee.