I hope I don't make too many cheeks red, but I want to talk about sex. Yes, I said it! SEX.
Sex and intimacy are important topics, and they are often ignored in very important contexts because it simply not polite conversation. Not having those conversations though can have a real impact on people's lives- so I prefer to giggle nervously but just move forward.
Disability and illness are rarely included in the conversations we do have. We assume, falsely, that those facing medical issues, or those that are disabled, are asexual. Society has a way of mentally castrating people it no longer considers generally desirable. This is a difficult stigma, and surely a person who is just at the start of hardship might assume this is the role they must play.
A few years ago I bought my friend a book about sex and disability because she was rehabilitation counselor and I thought she would find it interesting, and potentially be helpful to another someday. While it sat in my house, waiting to be gift-wrapped, I looked through it. One diagram showed how to put a condom over a catheter. I was kinda shocked and a bit grossed out at first, but quickly realized that was the reaction most of us carry around and it is, plainly wrong. I read about how people with spinal cord injuries find that new erogenous zones develop when they lose the ability to feel below the waist. An elbow, a spot on their neck, they can cause feelings of orgasm when a vibrator is placed to them. This information was fascinating to me, and eye-opening. Why should anyone be deprived of basic pleasure and intimacy? Why should we assume that a person going through disability or illness isn't capable, or desires, of those most basic of human emotions and needs?
But internalizing that when you are that person is harder because that stigma is reflected everywhere.
When I first received the colostomy it was a blow to my self-image. I wanted to continue life as it was, but when my husband looked at me I assumed that he just saw the clear bag and its contents...saw cancer and sadness. I couldn't imagine anyone could find beauty there or desire that, even though rationally I knew better.
During one of my chemo's, the nurse navigator came over and - with a whisper - asked if I was interested in a book about colostomies and sex. I laughed, but she was genuinely afraid of offending me. I welcomed it though, no one else broaches the subject and I had so many questions and insecurities in my head. The book was It's in the Bag and Under the Cover by
Sex and intimacy are important topics, and they are often ignored in very important contexts because it simply not polite conversation. Not having those conversations though can have a real impact on people's lives- so I prefer to giggle nervously but just move forward.
Disability and illness are rarely included in the conversations we do have. We assume, falsely, that those facing medical issues, or those that are disabled, are asexual. Society has a way of mentally castrating people it no longer considers generally desirable. This is a difficult stigma, and surely a person who is just at the start of hardship might assume this is the role they must play.
A few years ago I bought my friend a book about sex and disability because she was rehabilitation counselor and I thought she would find it interesting, and potentially be helpful to another someday. While it sat in my house, waiting to be gift-wrapped, I looked through it. One diagram showed how to put a condom over a catheter. I was kinda shocked and a bit grossed out at first, but quickly realized that was the reaction most of us carry around and it is, plainly wrong. I read about how people with spinal cord injuries find that new erogenous zones develop when they lose the ability to feel below the waist. An elbow, a spot on their neck, they can cause feelings of orgasm when a vibrator is placed to them. This information was fascinating to me, and eye-opening. Why should anyone be deprived of basic pleasure and intimacy? Why should we assume that a person going through disability or illness isn't capable, or desires, of those most basic of human emotions and needs?
But internalizing that when you are that person is harder because that stigma is reflected everywhere.
When I first received the colostomy it was a blow to my self-image. I wanted to continue life as it was, but when my husband looked at me I assumed that he just saw the clear bag and its contents...saw cancer and sadness. I couldn't imagine anyone could find beauty there or desire that, even though rationally I knew better.
During one of my chemo's, the nurse navigator came over and - with a whisper - asked if I was interested in a book about colostomies and sex. I laughed, but she was genuinely afraid of offending me. I welcomed it though, no one else broaches the subject and I had so many questions and insecurities in my head. The book was It's in the Bag and Under the Cover by
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