Prelude
Before I begin, a couple notes. I am not editing this - this is not family friendly. It will be real. It will be true, at least, I will speak the truth as I see it. I will not reveal my name, nor will I reveal the names of others. I need to protect myself and my clients. I won't even tell you where I am from. If you are clever enough to figure it out, keep it to yourself, no one cares about your attempts to unmask me, I am not a superhero - I am just this guy. I have some stories, and some thoughts, and maybe they're worth reading. Probably not, but here we are.
Part the First
It seems prudent to begin with telling you what the fuck a Q is and does. But I have something else more important to cover first - this will be a post in two parts. Stick with me, I'll try not to prattle on. Too late for that, I suppose.
I frequently use a word that is very offensive. It is a descriptor, it is a medical term, and in my decade and a half's worth of experience, it has come and gone out of fashion several times. I do not use it pejoratively. I do not use it to describe anything other than the people to whom the appellation applies, however it will still piss a whole mess of people off. They need to calm the fuck down. It is just a word, and it is a good word when used correctly, and sometimes, there isn't a better word to use.
What, you may ask, is this horrendous word that may cause anyone curious about this blog to curl up into the fetal position next to their computers in a pool of their own tears and urine? What word could possible engender so much anger and disdain? Retard.
For a long time I didn't say the "r-word." For a long time I was one of those idiots who would scream across an arena full up people saying, "don't use that word, it's not nice." But you know what, if people with intellectual disabilities feel comfortable describing themselves as "retarded," shouldn't we? It really is just a thing that some people are. It isn't even everything they are, people are complex, nobody is ever just one thing. But they are things. I am a Q; you are a reader; David Bowie is a rock star; some people are retarded. Not good or bad. Not stupid. Just, you know, retarded.
You will never hear me say, "that movie is retarded." Never after seeing a guy throw a pass when he should have handed the ball off will you hear me say "that guy's retarded." You will never hear me tell someone who is using a ladder on a chair "you are being retarded." That's fucking mean. But if a person is retarded, then he or she is just that, retarded.
Part the Second
Calling myself "Q" is not my attempt to be some hyper-dimensional, hyper-intelligent, malcontent with a penchant for waylaying and toying with the USS Enterprise. Q is the first letter in QIDP, which stands for Qualified Intellectual Disabilities Professional. We call ourselves Qs, our staff and clients call us Qs, that's pretty much what everyone calls us - it's alot easier than QIDP, and it sounds cooler.
Back in the day we were "QSPs" - I don't remember what that stood for, something like Qualified Service Professionals. I was never one of those. Even further back, we were QMRPs, Qualified Mental Retardation Professionals. I was never one of those either, but I had one when I started working with this population. But, really, I am both of those as well, because they are all the same thing.
Qs are jacks-of-all trades. They manage care, they iron out social problems, they create programs for client to ensure they are learning new skills or maintaining skills they already have. Qs have to know a little bit about medicine, about medications, about legal stuff, some know sign language, many are polyglots to some degree. They have to know about OT and PT. They have to know how to stop a punch or what to do if a fire breaks out. They have to know how to respond to some really weird situations; they have to know about just about everything that goes into making a person a person. And then we have staff we have to train, supervise, teach, and mentor. Qs are some of the most overworked, underrated, and underpaid people in our society. Most people don't even know we exist. I'm not getting on a soap box. Not just yet. This is the reality of what Qs are.
It is tough work, but, it has its high points. Qs are rock stars. We walk in the door and our clients, who have seen us yesterday, tell us they missed us. They tell us we look good even if our hair is pink and green. They worry constantly if we are not at work on a day we are supposed to work. Some of our clients cry when we leave the building for the day, even though they know we will be back in less than 8 hours.
But Qs are people. We are not special, we are not doing anything special. Doctors are good at medicine. Bakers are good at making cakes. Mechanics are good at fixing things. Qs happen to be good at working with people with intellectual disabilities - we just have better - and weirder - stories than most people.
Note: the only time I used a permutation of the word retarded was to explain an abbreviation. Beyond that it wasn't necessary. I probably will use it later though. I don't go out of my way to say it, I simply do not go out of my way not to when it applies.
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