Friday, December 3

No valley hours

The smart speaker on the nightstand next to my bed chimes sweet chimes every morning to get me going. Electricity. I jump up, because I am one of those who takes little time to wake up, and I connect the capsule coffee maker to make my coffee. Electricity. Afterwards, I defrost bread in the microwave. I forgot to take it out at night. Electricity. I prepare a glass of milk for my daughter, who is still lingering in bed. Electricity. In the meantime, I have asked the loudspeaker to put on the morning radio show for me. Electricity. The bread has been toasting in the toaster for a few minutes. Electricity. It already smells like tomorrow in the kitchen. I think about the electricity bill… in the washing machine that I have to put. What device could you do without to reduce power consumption? They are all basic. In this part of the world we depend on electricity, to such an extent that a power outage lasting several hours would plunge us into a little domestic chaos. Blackouts? I tremble just imagining it.

The day has become a kind of gymkhana, trying to make everything fit, chasing that cheaper megawatt hour. Living, with what this implies for everyone, and making it as less burdensome as possible, without giving up the basics of cleaning, food and personal hygiene, becomes stressful. Distressing. Electrifying in the literal sense of the word.

Anguish rises to the nth degree when, literally, our life depends on electrical energy: to breathe, to move, to supply the function of our diseased kidneys. Respirators Electricity. Dialyzers. Electricity. Oxygen condensers. Electricity. Motorized chairs. Electricity. Nebulizers. Electricity.

Electrodependent people live plugged into a machine that runs on electricity. Not one day at an hour, but every day at all hours. The rising cost of electricity has once again confirmed how vulnerable they are. It is about electrodependence with capital letters. Relying on a machine to live. The rise in electricity prices is a spiral of anguish for these people. They cannot wait for the best moment, because they need all the moments. Electricity. There are no off-peak hours for them.

About this blog

We don’t like the word “disabled”. We prefer retrón, reminiscent of retarded in English, or to “go back”. We chose it to emphasize that it is more important to us that they give us what they owe us than what name they call us.

The news about retrones should not talk about sick people and ramps, but about misery and seclusion. Nuria del Saz and Mariano Cuesta, two lucky retrones, will try to say things as they are, with humor and watching out for taboos. If you want to write to us: [email protected]

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