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Assholes in Dementialand

One of my college students, Hillary, had come with me to a particular adult day services center once a month for a couple of years. Today was her last day because she was headed to grad school at Syracuse. 451 more words


Water- the Elixir of Life or May be Not…

This was my first visit to Chukru, a small village in the Palamu district. Although I had heard quite a bit about the village, it did not prepare me for what I saw and heard. 739 more words


Stuffed Cats and Real Cats in Dementialand

I once got in a tense argument about whether a stuffed cat was a real cat. For the record, it was a stuffed cat but really it was a real cat. 629 more words


Proof that "Positive" Euphemisms for Disability Just Don't Work

In the last couple of decades the language surrounding disability has become very fluid, less specific and just generally vague because “disability” is seen as a dirty word whose associations have negative affects on the people to whom it’s applied. 219 more words


Candor in Dementialand (aka Notes on Whether My Hair is Scroungy like an Alley Cat)

I sometimes struggle with apathy when making decisions about the big things in life–like my hair. It used to be closer to chin length and now it’s shoulder length. 628 more words


PWD, Help us reducing our weight soon!

‘Biscuits?’ Arvind offered me some when we were having our evening tea after the day’s work.

‘No, I must seriously do something about my weight. I have put on too many extra kilos over the last two years’, I replied. 534 more words