At the Library
This won't be a very long post. The pain that has been troubling me for a month is making it difficult to type and concentrate. I had a second change of meds on Monday, and the doc said that if that didn't help I'd have to stay in a pain clinic to find better pain management. Well, it doesn't seem to be working. But today is Blogging Against Disablism Day, and I didn't want to miss it.
About two weeks ago I had a couple of days that were somewhat better. I went to a few of my classes and to the library to get a book for one of them. This book turned out to be in the textbook building, a separate building where books that are often needed are available in many copies. This building has no elevator, and my book was up two narrow, steep flights of stairs. So I was on the ground floor, next to the librarians' desk, wondering what I should do. I'd gone up these stairs before, but that was when I was feeling better. On that day, I new that with a bit of time I'd manage to get my book, but I would pay for that. I was internally debating whether I should ask the librarian, who seemed to be on her own and old enough to probably have trouble with the stairs as well, for help, when she saw me hesitating and asked whether she could help me. I said that I needed a book but had some difficulties with stairs, and she told me that it was no problem, I would just have to wait a few minutes for her colleague to be back. So I wrote down the info of the book, sat down with another one, and before I knew it the colleague was handing me my book.
So why am I telling this story? I got my book without much difficulty, and the textbook building is not exactly the place you go for browsing. Single copies of the books are available for viewing only in the main building. Of course, it would have been better to have an accessible building, but the university library, just like the whole university, has problems because it doesn't have enough room, and we have a new library building, and several new class buildings, under construction. The part that annoyed me was my hesitation. I have a right to access these books without hurting myself, and still, I was wondering whether I was exaggerating, whether I shouldn't just suck it up and use those stairs... Sometimes, the disablism is within myself.
About two weeks ago I had a couple of days that were somewhat better. I went to a few of my classes and to the library to get a book for one of them. This book turned out to be in the textbook building, a separate building where books that are often needed are available in many copies. This building has no elevator, and my book was up two narrow, steep flights of stairs. So I was on the ground floor, next to the librarians' desk, wondering what I should do. I'd gone up these stairs before, but that was when I was feeling better. On that day, I new that with a bit of time I'd manage to get my book, but I would pay for that. I was internally debating whether I should ask the librarian, who seemed to be on her own and old enough to probably have trouble with the stairs as well, for help, when she saw me hesitating and asked whether she could help me. I said that I needed a book but had some difficulties with stairs, and she told me that it was no problem, I would just have to wait a few minutes for her colleague to be back. So I wrote down the info of the book, sat down with another one, and before I knew it the colleague was handing me my book.
So why am I telling this story? I got my book without much difficulty, and the textbook building is not exactly the place you go for browsing. Single copies of the books are available for viewing only in the main building. Of course, it would have been better to have an accessible building, but the university library, just like the whole university, has problems because it doesn't have enough room, and we have a new library building, and several new class buildings, under construction. The part that annoyed me was my hesitation. I have a right to access these books without hurting myself, and still, I was wondering whether I was exaggerating, whether I shouldn't just suck it up and use those stairs... Sometimes, the disablism is within myself.