I’ve been relatively lucky so far with cerebral palsy. For some, the disability demands a lot of operations and painful episodes which, for the most part, I’ve dodged.
I’ve been having physiotherapy since I was a child. A few therapists used to try scaring me into exercise. “You’ll regret it otherwise; when you’re older your joints will freeze up and you’ll only have yourself to blame.” I understand where they were coming from; they didn’t want me slacking off any time soon. I try to keep active and I still get therapy – so far, so good; my joints feel fine.
I hope they stay fine for as long as possible. My hope is that whenever I swim or stretch I’m reducing the overall damage I’m doing to myself when I get into my weird shapes (which I’d rather not know about). I tangle myself into so many strange shapes, but they’re always done for a purpose – to reduce excessive movement, or to make a task easier/quicker.
Life has always been this way. I look for easier ways to accomplish certain tasks by myself, while therapists come along and shake their heads at my techniques. I’m not sure how to sit down in a way that doesn’t piss them off. But they exist for a reason and do a good job. So long as they don’t keep reminding me that I’m going to be old one day, we’re cool.