There’s No Tragedy For Me
By: Sean Stubblefield
Tags: Short Story, Star Trek, Science Fiction, Axanar, Disability

There’s No Tragedy For Me

Be it known that I don’t blame Star Fleet for what happened to me. Nor do I blame Tlingons.

I was just in the wrong place at the right time. Or the right place at the wrong time?

Anyway, I realize that Star Fleet did not do this to me. Well, not exactly… not intentionally, not with malice or by negligence. Collateral damage… caught in the cross fire. It was an unpreventable accident. I hold no grudge or grievance. I am not bitter. Actually, Star Fleet has been very good and kind to me, in the aftermath. If not for that explosion, I wouldn’t be here, in the position I am, and we never would have met. So… in a way, it’s worth it?

Speaking of which, I had no idea, for some reason, that news outlets would approach me. When they did, I was not only surprised, but also kind of uncomfortable. Then I was worried, thinking― Can I do this? How do I put myself — my disfigurement — on display? What would people think of me?

Not just in terms of making a spectacle of myself, drawing public attention, as if I’m a celebrity… but mostly about my dreadful appearance, my diminished condition. Should I inflict that on others? I am hugely fortunate and grateful that our perspective has advanced to a stage of thinking inner development of each person is intrinsically connected to development of society.

Regrettably, medical technology has not advanced sufficiently to fully correct my disability. But at least it can accommodate to minimize much of the physical and associated psychological devastation.

The only reason I am allowing this attention― and scrutiny― to be brought to myself is to remind us all that we DO exist in such a benevolent society. I am cared for, resources and support are adequately provided for me. I am not left to fend for myself… even though I tend to be self reliant, prefer to be self sufficient. We must never fall into complacency, never take that for granted.

Initially, I had tears. When I found out the damage was permanent. They weren’t tears of panic or grief. Maybe ironically, they were tears of knowing I now had to give in to a body that had loss of control, loss of mobility, loss of vanity… and there was some relief in that. I came to understand what it was I had to deal with, I could begin to formulate a different orientation.

Admittedly, in the early days, there were times when I couldn’t take it, and I was really struggling with how I’m going to get by in life. This is it. The only life we get. My injury isn’t a tragedy, and I tell myself, You’re going to live in a way that would be a positive example for yourself and your son.

I am not destroyed or defined by this― neither the accident or the damage caused by it. I am strong enough not to be taken down. In a sense, I recover.

There is no shame, no fear. I am not a victim. I am not socially penalized or stigmatized for what happened to me.

A little brain damage does not make me less a person, only a slightly different one.

In a reality in which non-human looking people is normalized, who cares if I look a bit strange or distorted? People can handle that. I can.

Indeed, my condition, my circumstances has opened new opportunities and perspectives I never would have considered or conceived… as well as opened me up to those opportunities and perspectives. People often like to think everyone lives in a single shared reality… but there are multiple concurrent realities― and I’m not referring to quantum realms. Being disfigured as I am has placed me into and presented a new category of existence, unfamiliar to most people who are able-bodied.

[excerpt of interview with Delesia DuPree; civilian survivor of skirmish between Federation and Tlingon forces during The Four Years War]