Alright people. I'm going to share something with you. As hard as it is for me to write about sex, it's even harder for me to write about my health issues and disability. It's almost impossible. My parents never told me that I had cancer. I didn't find out until I was twelve, and I had to ask. I had heard a recitation of my medical history (I went to Boston Children's Hospital, a learning hospital, which meant my doctor entered with about 30 medical students, he would deliver my medical history, have them do a preliminary exam, do some other tests himself, deliver the prognosis, and then have a Q and A for the students every time I visited.) and noticed terms like radiation and chemotherapy. Even at twelve I knew what these were used to treat. I asked my parents and my mother told me I had indeed suffered from cancer. But that was is it. It was until I was 26 that I found out any other details and again I had to ask. What neither parent realized is because they never gave me an explanation for my disability other than "You were sick as a child," I literally thought I was insane. I couldn't otherwise explain why my body wouldn't obey my mind. To my knowledge there was NO reason, and therefore it had to be a failure of my mind. My father never wanted me to know what was wrong, that I had cancer. If he had his way, I would never have known. And thus the beginning of my belief that what makes me so unlovable, so inhuman is my disability.

As a result, I rarely do talk about my disability and when people chastise me with "I don't think of you as disabled," they don't realize what they are saying to me. They are putting me back in that place where there is no reason for my physical failures. Trust me, I'd rather be crazy, but I don't get the choice.

Which is why when I come out and write about what I went through as a child and ask all you all to either put up links, email friends, or donate money and the only two who pony up are Princeton of the gay blade and the Amazon, it seriously depresses me. Because it reinforces that fear, that essentially what makes me unlovable is my disability. And certainly, I am not asking for so much. As I said, take a few minutes and write a post if you are a blogger, or an email, or just tell a friend. The more people know, the more possible donors. And that's all good.

I've got three weeks to raise money. I'm doing the hard part, the thon, now make my effort worth it.

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