I want to stomp Banjo into paste for the most noble of reasons.
I’m an advocate for the disabled and severely disabled myself— this is exactly the kind of thing that I wish the able bodied (and good intentioned) would understand for their loved ones.
Quality of life is far, far more precious and important than life itself.
Cases of British children stricken with horrendous conditions, who are being kept alive despite doctors advice so that a family can crowd fund ONE MORE AGONISING TREATMENT FOR THEIR LITTLE ANGEL and subjecting them to travel when they can’t breathe for themselves happen every few years. The media circuses are ridiculous, right-wing newspapers whip the masses into a grief and empathy fuelled sadness panic and abuse hospital staff for doing their jobs.
Legal battles drag out a brain dead child’s life and the parents parade them around, no sense of dignity or privacy.
I joke a lot with my friends that my disability means I’ve lost all sense of shame and have no dignity any more, but pull the fucking plug on me if I get to this point.
An incredibly emotive piece, sickly described and with vicious detail. Brilliant work.
As someone with chronic pain this is way to real
All the discussion that arose from the suffering of a little imaginary chimera ,I love this site .
There was a huge uproar a few years ago when a girl with static encephalopathy had her uterus and breast buds removed. She was unable to move, and would never cognitively develop past early infancy; her parents wanted to save her from the pain of menstruation, as well as the risk of pregnancy in the event she entered an institution full-time. She had also been treated hormones to stunt her growth and ensure her parents could move her as needed.
I happened to agree with the process (still do), and got screamed at by a bunch of people about autonomy and choice. They refused to believe me when I pointed out that her condition was permanent, and she couldn’t make choices like consent. I know hope runs deep, but you gotta accept reality sooner or later. (I’ve always been both blunt and a realist, so…)
Look up the Ashley Treatment if you want more information. The ethical furor surrounding it is just one example of people being unable to parse disability, especially profound disability.
Ah, you’ve been through that bullshit, too! It sucks. It sucks so much. I’m only glad I was able to prove disability in order to get things snipped. Turned out later that pregnancy would have killed me.
THANK YOU. The things you advocate for are exactly the things that set me off most. People never seem to take into account the “inspirational” suffering of those around them. This shit is why my dad had a DNR, why my mom has one, and why I will defend those choices to the death. I say this as someone with significantly diminished quality of life. It’s really the most important thing in the world.
I hope he lives forever. Yay!
I feel this. Chronic Pain Powers, PLEASE DON’T ACTIVATE!
The movie the song and video are based on, Johnny Got His Gun, is utterly brutal. Definitely worth it watch.
Not only that, but the book won a national award and spurred anti-war protests
I will never in my life understand why people are invested in anyone else’s decision to reproduce or not. Like, what the entire fuck.
Exactly! And if someone wants kids with a partner who doesn’t, it’s not a good partnership.
Being AFAB means being treated like a child, even as a grown-ass adult. If I had balls and a wiener, I could have got things tied in knots, no questions asked.
A poor choice of words, perhaps
Same.
Or an accurate one.
Does Livia hate Banjo? And does his mummah don’t realize that he’s in pain? Is she dumb or something?
Probably loves Posh first and foremost, and killing Banjo would upset her. Thus the poor guy stays in a skinless living Hell, begging for death that’s being intentionally kept distant from him.
Of all the things Livia loves about Banjo, his suffering is first and foremost.
I’m not sure Posh is smart but enough to know the difference between foals and poop.