The Summer of Adventure Begins One Ordinary Thing at a Time

Case File Tags: Disability, Chronic Illness, Invisible Disability, Accessibility, Ableism, Service Dog, Disabled Joy, Recovery, Independence, Jeep Life, Personal Essay, Service Dingo™

Content Note: Discussion of chronic illness, disability, invisible disability, ableism, accessibility accommodations, prescription medications, seizures, service dog recovery after surgery, financial limitations, public harassment related to disability, and upcoming spinal surgery.

Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid

Disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and survival without the performance.

If you’re new here, hi.

I’m Sky.

Professional cryptid.

Unwilling amateur cyborg.

Occasional chronic illness and disability advocate.

Medically complex enough to make my chart a jump scare.

I cope with sarcasm, snacks, and narrating my life like it’s a field report.

Sometimes there’s coffee.

Those are the best days.

Today, there are electrolytes and coffee.

Lots of them.

Because your ghoul is rocking that post-doctor’s appointment hangover feeling and drinking Stur Paradise Vibe electrolytes like it’s a personality trait. It might legitimately be their best flavor.

Did I get out of my pajamas today? No.

Am I bruised from yesterday’s blood draw? Yes.

Is that what today’s post is about?

Also no.

Most days are lived inside a haunted meat suit with a questionable warranty and a long-standing feud with my nervous system.

And on Tuesdays…

We document it.

The appointments.

The adventures.

The spirals.

The “we left the house and now we have a story” moments.

Sometimes that story is just me sitting in a waiting room mentally drafting a rant while staring at outdated magazines.

Sometimes it’s “we found a place afterward and the food changed my life.”

Sometimes it’s both.

I spend a lot of time in Bed Jail™, but when I do venture into the wild, I’m rarely alone.

Luna is there.

Medical alert service dog.

Guardian.

Enforcer.

Service Dingo™.

Public access professional.

Emergency “we need to sit down right now” decision-maker.

Passenger Princess.

Then there’s M&M.

My Player 2.

My soft place to land.

Snack provider.

Voice of reason when I have none.

Which is often.

I’m a very stubborn cryptid.

And, in spirit and usually at home, the Yard Yeti.

Keeper of the home base.

Guardian of the Wi-Fi.

Champion of “I support you from this chair.”

This space is for chronic illness without inspiration porn.

Disability without apologies.

Life as it actually happens.

Including the messy.

The mundane.

And the unexpectedly good.

If you’ve been here before, welcome back.

If you’re new, you’ll find your footing.

Welcome to the Cryptid Dispatch.

Field notes from the chaos.

📡 Cryptid Dispatch Incoming…

Today’s report includes life updates, quiet revelations, and something that changed my life in a way I didn’t expect.

This isn’t a rant.

Just a “we left the house” post.

Something that still feels a little wild.

A little bit of adventure.

🎃 The Great Pumpkin™ Era

If you haven’t been keeping up with the blog, I’ll say it again:

Your resident Cryptid is mobile again.

Yeah, I know.

I’ve been saying it a lot lately.

But until the excitement wears off, you’re probably going to keep hearing it.

Sorry.

After seven months, we were finally able to get a vehicle.

She is a 2019 Jeep Renegade Trailhawk.

And yes.

I’ve already named her.

She is The Great Pumpkin™.

Complete with a Stay Weird bumper sticker and conversation-heart jack-o’-lantern decals on the back window.

Don’t worry.

That’s not the last of the customizations.

There are pumpkin tire valve covers too.

Though if M&M keeps adding puppy paw prints and dog-themed accessories, I may have to start calling her the Pupkin’ Spice Latte. (That’s what her in-vehicle WiFi is named)

I’m not saying the Jeep is becoming emotionally-support-coded.

But I am saying there are paw prints involved.

And honestly?

How could I be upset?

Luna is one of the biggest parts of my life.

And apparently The Great Pumpkin™ belongs to her too.

Every time we open the door she acts like we’re embarking on some grand expedition instead of running errands.

To be fair…

She isn’t entirely wrong.

After seven months of waiting, even Aldi feels a little like an adventure.

Every time I climb into The Great Pumpkin™, part of me is still surprised that I can simply decide to go somewhere again.

Seven months ago, that freedom felt impossibly far away.

Now the keys hang by the door.

And that still feels a little magical.

🧡 Tiny Freedoms

There are freedoms people celebrate loudly.

New jobs.

Big moves.

Graduations.

And then there are tiny freedoms.

The quiet ones.

Hanging your keys by the door.

Going to the grocery store because you feel like it.

Deciding you want coffee and simply… going to get one instead of always making it at home.

I don’t think I realized how much of my world had shrunk until it started expanding again.

I think I’ve spent so long surviving that I forgot I was allowed to want things again.

Freedom isn’t always fireworks.

Sometimes it’s just options.

And after seven months without them?

Options feel pretty magical.

🌱 The Garden Report

The garden is thriving.

The tomatoes are happy.

The herbs are happy.

The peppers are happy.

Honestly, I think everything is happy.

Including the weeds.

Especially the weeds.

The rain and the sunshine have apparently entered some kind of custody battle over Illinois this week, and everything in my yard has decided to use the opportunity to become enormous.

The weeds are currently winning.

Their reign of terror will end eventually.

Probably.

As soon as the weather stops arguing with itself.

This is yet another reason I firmly believe everyone should grow at least a little of their own food if they can.

There’s something healing about it.

Watching something grow.

Watching yourself grow.

And occasionally losing a battle against a dandelion.

♿ Equality Isn’t a Special Privilege

The funniest thing happened while we were out this week.

Again.

We ran into Aldi after my pre-surgery physical Monday and encountered an older man who apparently decided my disability was up for public debate. (Newsflash, it’s not.)

Because I use my handicap placard and park near the front of the building.

From the outside, a lot of people wouldn’t know I’m disabled.

Invisible disabilities are funny that way.

Except yesterday…

It was obvious.

I wasn’t doing well.

I had my Xolair injections.

I had blood drawn.

I was exhausted.

But even if I had looked perfectly fine?

I still wouldn’t owe anyone an explanation.

Because disability doesn’t need to perform itself for public approval.

Apparently, this gentleman had already made comments to M&M.

Which is extra funny because we’re both disabled.

Then he followed me to the carts and said:

“Since you’re faking a disability and you’re in my parking spot, you might as well just give me the cart, so I don’t have to waste a quarter.”

Fucking.

Excuse.

Me.

I looked him in the eye and said:

Accessibility doesn’t put me ahead of anyone else. It helps close a gap that already exists. Even with accommodations, my body still works harder for things many people never have to think about.

I could show you my scars, but I suspect bullying strangers is more your hobby.

Because here’s what people miss.

Disabled people aren’t receiving special treatment.

We’re receiving access.

There’s a difference.

Accessible parking isn’t a reward.

It’s a tool.

Mobility aids aren’t shortcuts.

They’re bridges.

Accommodations don’t put disabled people ahead.

They help level a playing field that wasn’t built with us in mind.

And kindness costs absolutely nothing.

So maybe remember that the next time being a dick crosses your mind.

Because you never know what someone else is carrying.

Signed,

Someone who is preparing for major spinal surgery.

Again.

📚 Storybuilding & Plotholes

Some of you have noticed our Monday writing posts have been missing.

The truth is, it isn’t because I’m not writing.

Quite the opposite.

Usually, when I sit down to write about writing…

I end up writing instead.

And this year?

My poetry is coming back.

I can’t say too much yet.

Only that it’s going to be special.

Some stories need to sit in the dark for a while before they’re ready to come back into the light.

🐾 Luna Watch

As of today, June 16th…

Luna has declared herself completely recovered.

The veterinary professionals disagree.

She wants car rides.

She wants adventures.

She wants her ball.

Immediately.

Officially, I wasn’t supposed to give it back until tomorrow.

Unofficially…

We’ve been cheating.

Tiny tosses.

Little games.

Enough movement to keep her busy.

Enough fun to make her appetite come back.

Because here’s something I noticed about my girl.

When she wasn’t doing much besides laying around?

She didn’t want to eat.

She was bored.

The same way I don’t really want to eat when I don’t do much.

So, we adjusted.

A little.

And it worked.

Her fur is growing back.

Her stitches are dissolving beautifully.

Everyone is happy.

Most importantly?

We’re both remembering how to exist outside of recovery.

Apparently neither one of us is particularly good at sitting still.

🐾 Official Statement from Luna Bean, Service Dingo™

I don’t know what everyone’s problem is.

Mama got a Jeep.

I got car rides.

We both got snacks.

This seems like an excellent summer to me.

Respectfully,

Luna Bean

Professional Service Dingo™

Passenger Princess.

Ball Rights Activist.

People.

🌻 The Quiet Shape of Freedom

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about recovery.

Sometimes it isn’t getting cured.

Because sometimes there isn’t one.

Sometimes it’s getting little pieces of yourself back.

A driver’s seat.

A bookstore.

A mall trip that turns into a story.

A service dog asleep beside you.

A book you’ve been trying to finish for a year.

A new story you’ve just started writing.

Or one you started a long time ago and just haven’t finished yet.

Maybe that’s what this summer is.

Not some grand transformation.

Just collecting little pieces of ordinary and realizing they’re extraordinary because we almost lost them.

Seven months ago, most of these stories wouldn’t have happened.

Not because they were extraordinary.

Because they were ordinary.

And sometimes ordinary is the first thing disability takes away.

But the Summer of Adventure is still on.

Even if it happens slowly.

Even if adventure looks like researching deck umbrellas because the storm murdered ours.

Banana Minion Frosties from Wendy’s.

A family dinner in pajama pants.

Or a dragon-hatted gnome riding shotgun in an orange Jeep.

It still counts.

Also, my surgery date changed again.

July 9th now.

At this point I feel like my neurosurgery date is a cryptid.

I hear stories about it.

I prepare for sightings.

And then it disappears back into the woods.

👻 From One Cryptid to Another

If you’re low on spoons, grab a couple from the snack table.

I keep extras there.

Drink some water.

Take your meds if it’s time.

Eat something.

Even if it’s only a few bites.

If your life feels like a string of strange side quests…

You’re not alone.

Some days feel like D&D with a character you didn’t build.

Some days feel like Jumanji and someone else already disappeared into the jungle.

Some days are big.

Some days are just:

we survived the appointment.

we survived the body.

we survived Bed Jail™.

All of it counts.

Current Status:

Part cryptid.

Part cyborg.

Fully mobile.

Mildly unsupervised.

And maybe, just maybe…

Remembering how to want things again.

Thanks for coming along with me.

💜

-Sky

Disability. Honesty. A little chaos.
(Occasionally field-tested.)

💜 Reading, sharing, or simply staying is more than enough.

There is never pressure to donate.

But if you’d like to support the long, slow work of staying alive, stable, and still wandering when I can, thank you for being here.

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility