The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability

The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability

The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability

My book review of The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability: For all of us who live with disabilities, chronic pain & illness is now online at Sex in the Public Square.


The sexuality of disabled members of our society is perhaps one of the most closeted, or at least overlooked, topics in American public discourse. Rarely is the topic addressed even by the most strident of sex positive advocates. The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability was written to rectify this deficiency in our public square. The authors, Miriam Kaufman, M.D., Cory Silverberg, and Fran Odette, take a unique and personal approach to their mission by lacing the book with actual responses from a survey done by phone and internet. These survey responses faithfully guide the book toward its objective.

Read the rest at SitPS.

Nasty Nightmare

My Own Nightmare, by Infinity Rain @ FlickrSometimes a nightmare will inspire me, once I’m awake and look back at it. Not this one. It just scared the living crap out of me. Fortunately, I woke up before the end.

I needed some pain meds yesterday, after being four hours on my feet in the morning. The last three days, I’d been proctoring for the middle school End of Grade exams, so for the first time since I injured my neck, I’d been on my feet for an extended period without a break. Yesterday was the last day, so once I’d gotten the kids home from school I took a couple of muscle relaxers. I thought about the pain killer but decided to skip it. I haven’t had one in a while and didn’t want to get started taking them again. It’s a very addictive narcotic, and it makes my head all fuzzy.

The muscle relaxers kicked in and I crashed out about six last night. I slept straight through to 3AM, woke up for about an hour, and went back to sleep.

I awoke from the nightmare a few minutes ago. It started out pretty good, though. I was a new teacher and a group of really old black men with silver hair were teaching me to play the saxophone in the teachers’ lounge (which was outside on the deck in the forest, ’cause that’s where teachers’ lounges always go, right?). I stepped away for a moment to talk to my wife, and when I got back, the table, the men, and the sax were all missing.

It must have been late fall, because the ground was covered in orange leaves and the trees were bare. My wife and I went looking for the sax in the forest. I found it at the bottom of a little dry creek bed, caught in the top of a fallen tree. When I climbed into the thick tangle of branches to get it, I suddenly found that the tree was not a fallen one at the bottom of a creek bed, but a standing one at the tip of a long, skinny spit of land overlooking a deep gorge, and it was swaying (with me in it) out over the chasm. I shifted my weight a little when it swayed backwards toward the safe ground, and got it to crack and fall, dropping on top of me as I hit the ground.

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drunken blogging, by vanz @ FlickrBlogging Under the Influence.

Turns out that Blair really is Blair. She called earlier today, and we had a lovely interview about blogging drunk, although as I warned her, I’m not half as interesting on the phone as I am in print.

Janie thought it was a riot that of all the things for ABC News to call up little ol’ me and interview me about, inebriated rantings was what fate had in mind. Oh, and not the local guys here in town, we’re talkin’ ABC News from New York. Ok, that really is pretty funny, and I can laugh at myself.

I don’t really drink a lot, but the pain meds I’m on produce the same effect. So although I don’t blog drunk very often, I do in fact BUI all the time. In fact, I plan on B’ingUI a little later this evening. (Note: If I say something that you find offensive during that time, it really sucks to be you.)

And just to add one more funny-if-it-were-someone-else note, I sat back in my computer chair this afternoon after grocery shopping (my daughter drove, don’t worry), and wound up on my butt. Somehow, someway, Shakespeare Da Bard Dawg managed to remove a wheel from my chair without tipping it over. I have no idea where it is. That damned Retriever is too smart for his own good.

It’s been a very ungraceful day for me, but one of the funniest in recent memory.

If you have a funny drunken blogging story, or if you BUI, email me at loujamesdad AT yahoo DOT com, so I can put you in touch with Blair.  She’d like to talk to you.

::From whence came the art:

That image is called drunken blogging, by vanz on Flickr.::

Teenagers Bearing 6 AM Gifts

Breakfast In BedBreakfast in bed.

Sounds wonderful, right? I’ve always been a morning person, and watching the sun come up is one of life’s greatest pleasures. For most of my adult life, I’ve been God’s alarm clock. She’s a party Gal, and tends to stay out too late, drink too much, and arise hung over sometime in the mid-afternoon. There’s nothing wrong with any of those things of course, and I’ve always done the best I could as Early Morning Stand-In (EMSI or “MC” for short). Somebody has to keep an eye on the universe after all, and if she’s disturbed before noon after an all-nighter, bad things happen.

Remember that whole Noah/flood/genocide thing involving an ark? Man was that ugly. And Job never did that twice, let me just tell you. He learned the first time, too.

But since I’ve become disabled, I tend to have stints of pain that keep me up late, and that leaves me in bed with her drunk naked butt and whoever she brings home until well after dawn. There was one time she brought home the entire Greek pantheon. That bunch can be pretty bawdy when they’re plastered. Lots of fun, but annoying if you’re the only sober one in the bed.

Oh, sorry. Tangent there. Where was I? Oh yes, last night.

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Earth Mother – Tiki #4

I forgot to take pictures of Easter Island Bob before I delivered the first three tikis. (He’s styled like an Easter Island Moai… hence the name.) I’ll take pictures in between the dance this Friday and the party they’ve already got booked for the high school at the end of the year. Apparently, they’re celebrities already.Eath Mother Godess Idol

This one is the latest. I wanted to do a full body type of idol this time. As I carved him, he turned out to be a she. Hey, I just find them and set them free.

The pics don’t really show her headdress very well. It’s black feathers wrapped with braided hemp. I bought the beads and feathers and hemp at Michael’s, then made the skirt and stuff myself.

Eath Mother Godess Idol

She wound up (accidently, I swear!) with a very convenient knot. After she was done being carved, I decided I had better put a grass skirt on her.

You’ll note she’s pregnant.  It’s hard to tell in the pics.  Sorry.

Here’s what’s under the skirt.

Eath Mother Godess Idol

Tiki porn. Gotta love it.

On another note, the stuff for the new shed arrives tomorrow. I wasn’t really ready to tackle that project yet physically or financially, but the wind had different ideas.  Maybe I should make an idol to the wind god, and he’ll magically fix the shed and I won’t have to build a new one.  Anyways, I’ll be glad to get that behind me. Then I plan on laying in bed and crying like a damned school girl for a week or two.

Unless something else breaks.

Maybe then I can get UDoJ moving again.

I Walked Around A Little Today

Janie (the wife, not the alter ego) and I walked around Lowe’s and the Depot for a while today. I’ve got some ideas about the kitchen. I guess I’m feeling construction inspired now. I solved a lot of problems with a kitchen remodel in my head today, and went to check prices and stretch the legs a bit.

The counter top is what’s going to kill me. I had no idea how much they’d gone up in price in the last few years. The solution is to do a little of the kitchen at a time, I think. And the way I have the kitchen laid out on paper, I should be able to do that. I’ll go with the cheaper laminate counter top until it’s done, and then when I get the urge (and the bucks) I’ll replace the counter top all at once and put in a Corian or granite top in one shot.

There’s no drywall behind the paneling in the kitchen, so that means that even though I can work around the existing cabinets as far as layout goes, the cabinets will still have to come out so I can rip down all the paneling and drywall before anything else. Not looking forward to that, for sure.

I’m not physically ready to attack the kitchen yet anyway, I’m just working in my head and planning.

Meanwhile, as much as I despise our kitchen (I’ll remember to take “before” pictures this time), I have to fix the shed first. Crappy metal one and it’s falling down.

That’ll be another overdrive job, because once I start I’ll have to get it done before the next rainfall. Another week in bed afterwards, I’m sure. At least this is sort of our dry season, so the weather isn’t exacerbating my problems too much, and if I can get it done before the rains get more regular, that’ll give me a little more time.


Whattyagonna do? Home ownership has a price, and the price on a bargain of a house is that shit is broken and needs fixing and replacing.

I’m having trouble sitting in this chair still, so blogging won’t be much yet. At least I got the pictures in the last post fixed, and the spam boxes cleaned out.

Which brings me to another bitch, but I’ll let JanieBelle handle that one. Maybe tomorrow.

Hall Bath Pictures

Hall Bath
Ok, some pictures of the pimped out hall bath.

The pictures don’t really do it justice, I think. Of course, I’m biased.

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It All Started With A Little Paint…

So my daughter decided she wanted to paint the hall bath.  Despite my being a pretty useless cripple, I persuaded her to at least allow me to patch the holes in the drywall.  Our house is like 30 years old, and it had been a rental for a while, so it’s seen better days.  The cheapo towel rack had eventually ripped out of the wall, and the toilet paper holder wasn’t far behind. 

I could hardly begrudge her a little paint, the whole house is painted eggshell, with bright white ceilings.  It’s probably been the same coat of paint for about 10 years.  Well, except the kitchen.  The kitchen is a lovely shade of dark brown cheap ass 1965 panelling.  That’s another story which has yet to be written. 

Ok, so I can’t do much at a time.  I’m a cripple.  I’m taking my time, doing a little patching one day, a little sanding a few days later when I recover, yada yada yada.  Two weeks ago, my wife and daughter head to Kentucky and I plan on spending the whole weekend writing.  Yeah, shoulda known that wasn’t gonna happen.

James comes to me and says, “Dad, can we host the cast party for the musical at school?”

“Sure, when is it?”

“Next weekend.”


The kids have all their toiletries all down the hall carpet, because I’ve got the bathroom torn up.

So I have to get into what is for me now, overdrive.  What should take me a day or two takes me weeks now.  But as long as I’m patching the holes in the drywall, I might as well do the tape joint where the walls meet the ceiling, because the 30 year old tape job is coming apart and needs attention.  And as long as I’m at it, I might as well replace the $2 rental home bathroom light.  Found a really nice one at the Depot, chrome with white porcelain accents.  And the goddamned fart fan is the size of a matchbox, and doesn’t do squat but run up the electric bill, so I might as well replace that rusty old piece of crap. 

300 cfm of pure sucking pleasure, baby!  (That’s “cubic feet per minute”, for those of you non-construction bums.)  That sonuvabitch will out suck most cheap hookers.

Before they left, the girls picked out the paint for the walls.  Lime fucking green.  What the hell am I gonna do to match that paint?  It looks even worse on the walls than it does on the can.  Fuckin’ women.

Might as well replace that $1.50 plastic medicine cabinet with the fake brass trim that’s been peeling off since before I was born.   It’s only about big enough for a tube of chapstick and a condom anyway.

I rip it out of the wall, and whatya know?  The wet wall is 8″ deep and no pipes behind the medicine cabinet.  I love when that happens.  Daddy gonna build a medicine cabinet to take advantage of all the space.

Long as I’ve got the wall open, there’s no receptacle in the bathroom, so I might as well install a GFI.

But what about the lime fucking green paint?  Banana yellow.  Yep.  Banana fucking yellow.  I rock.  I am a genius.  It is the only shade of any color in the world which will salvage this fucking can of Lime fucking green paint.  I’ll trim around the door and the baseboard with banana yellow.  Might as well replace the light and fan switches and the cheap ass plastic plate.  Got good metal ones and painted them yellow to match the trim.

Nice medicine cabinet.  All red oak, with a golden oak stain.  No one will ever see them, but it’s all dovetailed together, dado and rabbit joints for the shelves, not a nail or screw in it, ‘cept for the hinges and the handle.  I rock.

Y’know what would be cool, and would help tie things together?  That glass shelf and toilet paper holder at the Depot that sort of match the light.  I’ll mount them on oak blocks to tie in with the medicine cabinet.  Oh, and the hooks on that coat rack?  They match the rest, but the mount is cheap ass crap.  I’ll dismount them, and mount them on matching oak blocks.

Wife and daughter bought some cheap white cabinets for the bath.  I’ll hang them for now, but replace them later.  I like the idea of the wall cabinet and the etagere, but they’re cheap particle board snap together things.  I’ll copy the style and build nice ones down the road.

Wife and daughter picked up a jungle themed shower curtain at my direction, and I added a paint transfer bush behind the new door.  It was one of those crappy brown fake wood hollow core P.O.S. doors that run through the whole house.  I put in a new masonite door (Pop did the mortising and knob hole drilling, he’s got the stuff to hang doors, being a carpenter and all.)  I put new brass hinges and a decent little handle on it, instead of a regular knob.  It’s much dressier.

Long as I’m at it:  Yep, matching faucet.  Sweet.

11:30 PM on the eve of the cast party, I’m still slinging yellow paint on the door trim.  It’ll have to do.

My blogs are all but cobwebby, but as long as I can move, I have to be doing stuff.

I’m joking with the family.  “I should start my own reality TV show: ‘Pimp my toilet’.

It turned out pretty well for having started with a cripple and some lime green paint, I think.  Of course, now the entire rest of the house looks even worse, next to the pimped out banya.

I got it all done in time, and while I was still mobile, I figured I’d try to work on the freeze board project I started a few months ago.  I managed to make it all the way across the back of the house.  I still have to fill the screw holes and do the touch up paint, then I can hang some crown mould and stuff.

See, when they built the house, they just slapped in some skank 2X6s, just barely hanging on the wall, then slapped on some 1/4″ plywood and cheap ass metal trim.  It’s the cheapest way to do it.  (The freeze board is the part of the house that comes down from the roof to lap over the top of the brick wall, so the rain doesn’t run behind it.)  I don’t blame them, their job is to slap up as many houses as they can in the shortest amount of time with the least amount of money.  But after 30 years, it rotting and crappy and now that the house is mine, I want to fix things right.  It’s a construction bum thing. 

So I took some 2X4s, built a little wall on top of the brick (deck screws, no way in hell I can drive 16 penny nails), and put some 3/4” pine board up with finishing screws.  It’s painted Sidesaddle (brown), and I’m thinking I’ll go with some Family Legacy (tan) to trim other parts of the house.  Before I started, it was all the same eggshell that’s inside the house, except the gutters which are the most godawful red-brown.  It’s horrendous.  Anyway, so what should have taken a day took me several months to be able to do.  And it’s just the back of the house.  I still have both ends and the front to do.

There’s a homeless woodpecker out back now, and some pissed off European Starlings, but they’ll get over it.  At least I’ll be able to shower in peace now.  (The “master bath” sticks out on the back of the house, and was open at the freezeboard for a while now.)  Goddamn woodpecker trying to see my pecker wood.  I ain’t shy, but I’m choosy, y’know?

Anyways, that’s the long and the short of my emergency disappearence.  I’ll try to get pictures up tomorrow, because I have a feeling that that’s about all I’m going to be able to do.  I’ve used up my quota of good days for quite some time, I think.

I hurt like hell, and I’m going to go shower now.  In fact, I think I’ll take a bath.  I’m a little afraid of falling, my legs have been acting up bad today.  Meds and spinning blades don’t mix, and I had to use the spinning blades.  I’ve been a terror, but not as bad as last time I was without meds.  Knowing what was going on helped me to mitigate the collateral damage, I think, though I’ve had my moments.  Kay was pretty pissed at me for a couple days there.  God only knows what horrible things I may have said in my insanity.

Anyways again, I’m taking my meds in the morning.  Dr. Jeckyl should replace Mr. Hyde shortly thereafter.

Thanks for all of your concern.  There was just no way I could do any blogging at the end of the day.  The only thing I could manage was to crawl into bed and hope I didn’t have to pee until morning.

‘Til tomorrow.

Should Have Read The Fine Print

While I was puking my guts up from poison-by-peanut-butter, I wasn’t taking my meds. I didn’t figure there was much point.

Discontinuation of Treatment with Cymbalta:

Discontinuation symptoms have been systematically evaluated in patients taking Cymbalta. Following abrupt discontinuation in MDD placebo-controlled clinical trials of up to 9-weeks duration, the following symptoms occurred at a rate greater than or equal to 2% and at a significantly higher rate in Cymbalta-treated patients compared to those discontinuing from placebo: dizziness; nausea; headache; paresthesia; vomiting; irritability; and nightmare.

During marketing of other SSRIs and SNRIs (serotonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitors), ther have been spontaneous reports of adverse events occurring upon discontinuation of these drugs, particularly when abrupt, including the following: dysphoric mood, irritability, agitation, dizziness, sensory disturbances (e.g., paresthesias such as electric shock sensations), anxiety, confusion, headache, lethargy, emotional lability, insomnia, hypomania, tinnitus, and seizures. Although these events are generally self-limiting, some have been reported to be severe.

Patients should be monitored for these symptoms when discontinuing treatment with Cymbalta. A gradual reduction in the dose rather than abrupt cessation is recommended whenever possible… blah blah blah.


I started taking the meds again. I hope I feel better soon. My family knows where I sleep.


(Emailing Under the Influence)

So there’s this teacher at my son’s school who has really been riding my son’s ass.

I’ve blogged before about how my son has really taken a turn for the worse in terms of attitude, temper, and school work, and up until recently I’ve been rather unsuccessful in putting my finger on just what the problem is.

Turns out it’s this teacher.  All my boy’s issues seem to be stemming from here and just spreading.  Now, my son is no angel.  He’s full of energy.  Full of piss and vinegar, but he’s always been good natured.  Never had a problem at school, rarely with other kids.

He’s one of the nicest kids I know… until recently.

Anyway, this teacher is very inexperienced, and very authoritarian.  That just isn’t a good combination for a middle school teacher, and now he’s pretty much turned the issues with my son into a battle of wills.  I’ll tell you now, he won’t win.  A 12 year old boy does not respond well to having a boot on his neck.  I know.  I was 12 once,  a long long time ago.

Yesterday things just went over the top.

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Doctor Appointment Today

I’m going back to see Doc Pace at 11 today.

I’m sort of disappointed. I’ve been back on the meds for almost a month, but I’m definitely not seeing improvement like I was last time.

How crappy for me.

I hope that changes. I feel like I “missed my chance” at getting somewhat functional again.

I didn’t think you were supposed to be depressed when you’re on anti-depressants, even if you’re taking the anti-depressants for pain management.

How doubly crappy for me.

The Problem With Meds

Is that you have to y’know… take them.

I am soooo the world’s biggest procrastinator, and the meds have eroded my memory until it’s a pile of green-grey mush.

Years of pain killers and muscle relaxers will do that to a guy.

I think I need one of those little pill box things that separates your pills into days of the week.

Went To The Doctor This Morning

Finally. I had, after three and a half years, half a dozen doctors, and a full compliment of attorneys, been awarded disability by a judge last January. Not one person involved disagreed with the diagnosis, prognosis, or lack of hope for recovery.

Except the insurance adjuster, I mean. But I was talking about people, not insurance adjusters, wasn’t I?

I’d been seen by some of the biggest names in the field in the Philly area including the chief of orthopedic surgery at Hahnemann University Hospital and the head of Orthopedics at Temple University, and none of them could do much of anything. My pain management doctor, Dr. Lam, had finally just stopped beating around the bush and told me flat out that I would be using a walker in a year or two, and in a wheel chair within five. Sometimes, it’s just that way. Nothing they can do.

While I had been pushing for her to lay it out bluntly, I have to say the shock was more than I was ready for. I cried right there in front of her and my wife like a five year old girl who’d just broken her favorite porcelain doll.

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My Stringed Babies

I can’t play anymore, because of my neck, but I can’t let them go, either.

So they deplorably collect dust in my home.


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Muscle Relaxers

Are a wonderful thing…

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The Laptop Battery

Lou FCDhas pretty much given up the ghost. That’s a bad thing for me.

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