Derby City Area Chapter of the National Spinal Cord Injury Association
ABOUT THE ORGANIZATION
The Derby City Area Chapter of the N.S.C.I.A. is a membership organization for individuals with spinal cord injuries, their families, and health professionals. Founded in 1984 as a Charter Member of the N.S.C.I.A., it was incorporated under IRS Section 501 (c) 3 as a not for profit organization. The Board of Directors consists of the Officers, Past President and the Board Members At Large.
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OFFICERS
PRESIDENT David Allgood - (502) 589-6620
VICE PRESIDENT Adam Ford - (502) 425-2206
TREASURER Tom Stokes- (502) 957-5865
LIAISON TO FRAZIER INSTITUTE Dr. Bill Kraft – (502) 582-5865
FUNDRAISING CHAIR Betty Perry—(502) 647-0368
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY/WEB MASTER Michael Feger- (502) 647-0368
PAST PRESIDENT Adam Ford- (502) 425-2206
BOARD MEMBERS AT LARGE- Mike Perry Kelly Young
NSCIA DERBY CITY CHAPTER NEWSLETTER
Editor- Barbara Davis
Contributor- David Allgood
Prostitution is easy money, too, but I don't need hands-on experience as a hooker to know I'd do a lousy job.
The fact that any gimp with a good spiel and a power tie can earn a decent living as a self-help guru says a lot about what society wants from us. The actual words that we say to them don't matter; we could speak entirely in Pig Latin, or make wah-wah noises like the adults in Peanuts cartoons, and still wheel away with payment for services rendered. It's the sight of us - our clean and well-groomed, but still damaged, bodies - that's the “motivator” here. The most beloved symbols of Disability in both literature and real life - from Tiny Tim to Christopher Reeve - exist to lift the spirits of people being carelessly ground down by the injustice, senselessness, and evil of daily life. “One day I'm going to throw away this crutch and run and play like the other boys,” says Tiny Tim. “One day I'm going to throw away this Ventilator and fly to the moon like Superman again,” says Reeve. Whether it's through the pages of a book or the bit of CGI fakery in a Super Bowl commercial, we give society what it wants, over and over again. What society doesn't want is the truth. And the truth is, we are all depressed.
Not clinically depressed, necessarily. Clinical Depression is a serious disease, and a disabling condition all by itself. I'm referring to that quiet, unwelcome, but impossible-to-ignore feeling that sits on your psyche like a month-old dog turd on the living room carpet. It's what makes you huddle silently in the corner of a party because of a nagging sensation that no one wants you to be there. It's what makes you cancel that job interview because the building may be inaccessible, or the interviewer may take one look at you in your chair and tell you she's sorry, but the position has been filled. It's what makes you leave your television set at the nursing home on the same channel for days because you don't want to bother anyone by asking them to change it. It's what makes you stay with an abusive partner because you can't imagine that anyone else will ever love you - and besides, he or she has put up with whipping your ass all these years, so the least you can do is show some gratitude.
Left unchecked, depression makes you stop living in the world. Ultimately, it makes you stop living, period.
I like to believe that my own depression is under control, that a supportive family and friends, a rewarding career, travel to faraway places, and a life with its share of fun experiences and community activity - not to mention two years of weekly therapy sessions in the 1980's - have shoved it into the far background where it belongs. But then, every so often my guard will slip, and before long I'm turning the mirrors in my house toward the wall so that I don't have to look at myself, or spending the better part of the day in bed no matter how much the cat bugs me to get up and feed her. If I have to leave the house in this condition, I'll screw on a smile and pretend to be my usual good-natured self - because my friends all have their own problems and I don't want a
