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@disabled-queen-hc-blog
Guys I'm so sorry for going MIA again. My infection needed to be drained and I've been in so much pain. The pain meds they gave me are no joke so I've been sleeping allllll day. I'm so so sorry. I hope I can be back soon :( thank you for all of your messages though. You guys are too sweet I don't deserve you all 💖 Thank you for your patience. I miss this blog sm!!!
I really wanted to be on yesterday 😭 I've been sick though :( I'm sorry guys. Even went to the ER. Got a butt ton of antibiotics to take ;_;
No posts today but hopefully I'll feel better soon. So sorry guys 💔
A sad pic I took with Almond Butter 😅
When autistic!john had surgery, you said he went down (General Anesthesia) badly. How did that happen? Can you tell us the story? Xx
He went down with a fight, haha.
Most times, they will wheel you to the OR and then sedate you there with a an IV medication or breathing mask.
I could imagine John being on edge as he’s wheeled into surgery. Lot’s of unhappy stimming and noises. And Crystal and his mom can only walk him so far.
The actual OR is scary. Big bright lights and lots of random people he’s never met before walking around. They try to put the mask over his face but he swats it away. He’s scared. They try again and despite their comforting words and explanation, he won’t let them.
They decide to let Crystal into the OR. It’s something they allow parents to do for their kids until the kid goes under, so they’ll give John the same privilege. It’s important to keep John calm for this and they aren’t going to force him under.
Crystal isn’t surprised when he’s called in.
He goes to John’s side and starts to crack jokes with him.
“If you’re good and survive this, I’ll give you a penny.”
“One penny? I’m rich,” John signs.
Crystal chuckles. “Alright. Two pennies.”
John laughs.
And with Crystal holding his hand, he lets them but the breathing mask on and he’s out like a light.
From then on, if John needs any surgery that requires general anesthesia, somebody has to go in with him. No big deal.
I might have asked this already (my phone is crap) but....how about John having congenital pain insensitivity?
This one is a doozy.
Pain is a very important sense. It lets us know when something is wrong. If a bone is broken or a tooth is infected of the tea you’re about to drink is way too hot. It protects us from hurting ourselves or hurting ourselves further.
Without pain, life would be relatively difficult for John.
The first few years though, would be great for his parents. John didn’t cry when he was teething. Or when he fell a lot when learning how to walk. Even when he got bruises.
The issues started to be noticeable when he was a kid. On the playground, he’d never notice when he scrapped his knee. Or how painful it was to fall from the monkey bars. Or the fact that he broke a teeth on his dismount from the swings. He only panicked when he saw the blood.
At home, the same would happen. He’d touch a boiling kettle and although his finger blistered, he didn’t even sniffle. Didn’t notice. Or when he got a big bruise on his face from falling while playing on the stairs. The teachers at his school thought he was being abused. His parents thought he was clumsy.
It wasn’t until some time in primary school where his parents got concerned. When his mum was undressing him for his bath, she noticed his foot was grotesquely swollen and purple. John didn’t notice. It didn’t hurt!
A visit to A&E confirmed his ankle was shattered. The doctors were puzzled as to how the 8 year old boy wasn’t screaming in agony the whole time. His parents blurted out something about him never showing that he felt pain.
After a surgery to fix his ankle, the doctors looked into John’s seemingly superior pain tolerance. They tried a lot of tests on him. Pokes with needles and ice on his skin amongst other things. John never flinched, winced or yelped. If he was looking away, he said all he felt was a touch. Pressure at most. Never pain.
He gets sent home with the “Congenital Pain Insensitivity” diagnosis. It’s under studied, barely understood and with no cure or treatment. It is a relatively new diagnosis at the time.
All the family is told to do is to do nightly checks of John. Check his limbs and torso for bumps, bruises, swelling, discoloration, etc. Check his fingers and in between his toes. Comb his hair and look at his scalp for anything too. At least until he’s old enough to check himself.
And the family has to teach John about safety. Don’t touch the stove or anything on the stove when it’s hot. Don’t bite your lip or tongue because you won’t know if you’ve bitten too hard. Don’t jump from high places. Wear a jacket if the weather calls for one, even if you don’t feel cold. And so on and so forth.
It is a lot of trial and error as John grows up. It’s hard to remember all the rules when you have no negative reinforcement (pain) to loom over you. Through his time in school, he breaks more bones. Gets cuts all over his body. Let’s infections get out of hand. He’s littered in scars but he does improve on taking care of himself.
By the time he’s in uni, he’s rather careful with himself. He checks himself every night and goes about his world with caution. He does occasionally burn his tongue on hot tea, but he’s not as bad like he was as a kid.
When he’s an adult, he’s pretty well adjusted! His disorder is something he can joke about. It doesn’t bother him too much. He just knows he has to be vigilant about his body. But there’s nothing stopping him from being a rockstar! So he’s real content with that.
In later years when genetic testing becomes a thing, he does take a genetic test that confirms his diagnosis. And he joins trials to find a treatment or cure for CIP. He’s an old man by this point, but he would love to be able to help babies and kids with this disorder before they’ve had too many falls or accidents.
hey! could we get something about roger having a reaally bad asthma attack and actually having to go to the hospital? or something like that! I think the boys would be really worried
It was obvious to most people that drumming in the South American heat and humidity wasn’t perhaps the best for an asthmatic Roger. Apparent to everyone besides the asthmatic Roger.
Despite everyone’s concerns and coddling, Roger told everyone he’d be fine. He’d have multiple inhalers with him on stage. In every nook and cranny he could fine. Plus, they were playing at night. Big difference between the day, right?
Wrong.
The first few songs went well. He wasn’t tired or short of breath. Just uncomfortable with how wet the air felt. He felt like he was swimming. How did the people who lived here deal with air that felt more like water?
But, it’s fine. He’s doing well. Never missing a beat. Sweating buckets, but fine. So is everyone else. Freddie’s as animated as usual, perhaps aided by a youth spent in muggy countries but Brian and John are sweltering too.
It’s not until he has a break that he feels himself being unable to catch his chest. Brian’s strumming away and he’s wheezing. No worries. He grabs the inhaler in his pocket and takes two pumps from it. He shakes the jitters from his hands and focuses on breathing.
It feels a bit better. Not 100%, but he’s not concerned. He keeps playing.
He plays until the first half of the show is over. He’s light headed. His chest feels tight, throat constricted. He waves John over. Tells him to tell Freddie to start his Ay-Oh’s early. He needs another break.
While the crowd’s singing and chanting with Fred, Roger takes 2 more pumps. This time, he feels no relief whatsoever.
His blood runs cold.
He takes a third pump.
If anything he feels worse.
He gasps for air.
It’s happening so fast, he doesn’t have time to think. Only panic. He coughs weakly and pounds his chest. It grows stiffer.
Brian only notices when he hears a wheeze on Roger’s mic. Roger’s red in the face and his eyes are way too big. He knows exactly what’s wrong. He was one of the worriers from earlier.
He runs to John and tells him to help Freddie close out before whisking Roger off stage.
Roger’s breathing sounds like a whistle. He’s going white. Brian asks him if he used his inhaler. Roger nods, his eyes watering. Brian starts barking at people to call emergency services.
John and Freddie run back stage just in time for Roger to be taken by ambulance to hospital. His lips are blue. He’s holding onto the oxygen mask for dear life.
Once in hospital, things start to calm down. Roger’s on a nebulizer, an IV giving him additional ashtma medications. The boys are surrounding him, drenched in sweat but terrified for their drummer.
“Oh, darling, I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it. I’m so sorry, Rog,” Freddie says, squeezing Roger’s hand.
“Should’ve fought harder for an indoor arena,” Brian scolds himself, a hand on Roger’s shoulder.
John’s quiet by his feet, a bit white himself, giving Roger worried glances.
Roger waves them all off, shaking hard, an unfortunate side effect from the medicine. “I’m fine, I’m fine, save the water works,” he says hoarsely, still recovering his breath.
Freddie does the exact opposite and bursts into tears on Roger’s chest. Brian has to pull him off, Roger’s chest not being the best place to lay on at the moment.
“Guys, I’m fine. Sorry about cutting the concert short though,” Roger says, leaning back against the hospital bed, the color back in his face, but a nice set of dark circles beginning to form. He was exhausted. And upset with himself.
Roger’s discharged later that evening. He recoups with the boys in his hotel room before coming back the next day to see what can be done about the concert he ruined. He’s a perfectionist after all. He won’t leave the people of Argentina unsatisfied! Even if he dies this time!
John did not agree with that sentiment!
Autistic! John struggling with obedience? As a young autistic person it still takes a while to realise who is authority figure/ who you should listen to and maybe john would struggle with that in the early days of the band?
People are scary and there’s so many rules that are unspoken. One being understanding authority figures. Who is and isn’t.
John defaults to everyone being an authority figure. It’s a mixture of not understanding social situations and lack of confidence. He doesn’t know who he should be listening to and on top of that, he feels kind of dumb, so assumes everyone knows better than him.
In the beginning of his time in Queen, everyone is like hehehe, John’s a real passive guy. Listens to everything we say. Better than a roadie actually.
It’s not until one day they realize John really was listening to them because he didn’t think he had a choice. Brian says jokingly for John to fetch him some expensive beer from a store across town and John gets up and gets his keys, nearly walking out of the door before everyone wrangles him back inside.
“I was joking, Deacy!” Brian says.
“You can say no, you know, sweetie,” Freddie says.
“Don’t think he knows how,” Roger notes.
John’s confused.
If it was a joke, why are they all so concerned?
This leads to a very big talk. All the things they’ve noticed come together. John has never said no since they met him. He does everything anyone tells him to do. Anyone. Anything. He takes all advice seriously. Changes his behavior if someone points it out. He’s basically a well trained dog and that is not a good thing!
They point this out to John and tell him that it’s okay to have a spine. In fact, it’s necessary in this business. It’s okay to say no. Maybe not to a police officer or his mum, but to them and managers and fans and random people, he can say no. He can ignore their words, their recommendations. He can act how he likes. He’s a grown man who can make decisions for himself.
John’s still confused and now embarrassed. He didn’t even notice he did that. He’s blushing furiously and going quiet. The boys decide to practice it rather than talk about it.
“Mind giving me a few pounds?” Roger asks.
John reaches into his wallet.
“No, John, you’re supposed to say no,” Brian reminds him.
“But I want to give Rog some money,” John says. Roger clutches his heart and tries to pretend that wasn’t kind of sort of sweet.
They try again.
“I don’t like your hair long. You should cut it, Deacy,” Freddie says.
John looks at his hair. Maybe he’s right? Wait. No. “Uh, no thank you...I think” John says, his voice cracking. It felt weird saying no to Freddie. He felt like someone you couldn’t say no to.
Again.
“Get me my guitar,” Brian says. The guitar is at his feet.
John wants to bend over to get it but shakes his head. “No...” he says. He looks to Freddie and Roger who are giving him bright smiles and thumbs up.
They try one more test to make sure John gets it.
Freddie lays dramatically on the floor.
“Deacy...I’ve just had a heart attack...call 999 for me, please. I’m dying.
“N-No...?” John said, not sure of himself.
“Oh my god.”
“The mad man just killed Fred.”
They had a lot more work to do....
Blind!Freddie has a bunch of canes: one regular one for everyday use, and plenty of decorated ones for the stage
Oh definitely.
He goes for something that is visually pleasing but also nice to the touch. So he glues on big gems that shiny brightly but are smooth and cool to the touch. And another cane might have feathers glued on. And another is painted with puffy paint.
Towards the 80′s though, I figure he’d cool down with his cane decoration. He wants people looking at him, not his white cane. Plus, over the top flamboyance is Elton’s Schtick. He might paint it a color to match his outfit, but that’s really it. He’s tired of interviewers asking him about his cane. People plucking things off of it as souvenirs.
Funnily enough, in private, his canes are decorated. With cat pictures of course. When he walks around his garden, his kitties are there to keep him safe!
Blind Brian getting patronized by someone in the studio and Freddie getting M A D
“Oh, you’re blind? How many fingers am I holding up?” the assistant said while laughing, holding up two fingers.
Why was that always the reaction he got to telling someone he was blind? A damn finger test, as if they were his ophthalmologist or something. And why, when he said he was completely blind, did people still think he could see their grubby little fingers being held up?
Brian sighed, his teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw. This was never funny to him. While the idiots who threw him these random tests thought it was hilarious, Brian found it humiliating.
But, Brian wasn’t one to lash out. He smoldered in silence and forced a smile. He let out a strained laugh before reaching out to his side to grab his white cane to leave the room. He couldn’t tolerate another second next to this jerk.
He felt around for his cane but came up empty handed. He swore he set it right next to where he was standing, leaning against the table.
“Did my cane fall?” Brian asked as he groped the table fruitlessly.
“Oh, no, I moved it. It was in the way,” The empty headed assistant said.
Brian’s stomach lurched. Oh yes. His cane, the thing he used to navigate this world was in the way. How silly of him. Was he now expected to crawl on the floor to find it? Apologize for his disability being a minor convince to someone? His hands turned into fists and his throat tightened up.
“What’s this business about moving Brian’s cane?” Freddie said as he entered the room, a slight sharpness to his tone.
Brian’s knees almost buckled. Oh, thank god it was Freddie. One of the few people who’d go to blows with someone for him. Brian oriented himself towards Freddie’s voice, his face falling flat miserably, his eyes threatening to water.
Freddie took one look at Brian before his vision locked onto the assistant.
“Tell me, whatever you name is, are you a smart man?” Freddie asked, taking lazy steps towards the assistant. The assistant nodded, not sure of what was happening.
“Hmm. Can you tell me what smart man moves a blind man’s cane away from him?”
The assistant gulped. “I didn’t k-”
“Didn’t know? That world famous guitarist for Queen, Brian May, is blind? Something talked about in all the tabloids and shows?”
The assistant shook his head.
“Can you tell me then, why are you working for us if you know nothing about us? Couldn’t be arsed to look in the newspaper about your employers? That shows laziness. Ineptitude. I don’t want either of those qualities on my work team,” Freddie said, his head tilting.
Brian could hear the assistant shaking.
“So, before you pack your things, I’d like you to find Brian’s white cane and bring it back to him. And apologize for your ignorance,” Freddie said, his voice growing lower as he spoke.
The assistant nodded, running out of the room to find Brian’s cane. Freddie sighed before turning to Brian and pulling him into a hug.
“So sorry about that, luvvy,” He said, giving the taller man a nuzzle.
Brian hugged back, chuckling. “Don’t apologize. That was a brilliant take down, Fred. He might need to change his pants from how hard he just pissed in them.” Freddie snorted.
“Well, you know, I do what I can. Nobody messes with Brimi. Especially someone that dumb,” Freddie said.
Brian smiled, saying quietly, “Thank you.”
How would non verbal autistic!John handle fans mobbing him when he is out just doing normal things? Most people are nice and respectful, but there are always some who will shove cameras in his face and demand autographs. Thank goodness for aide! Crystal and protective band brothers.
John absolutely uses Crystal as a shield.
John detests this part of being a rockstar. His private life is always up for grabs by people who recognize him on the street. He’s not as famous as Freddie or Brian, but he’s famous enough that even going grocery shopping makes him nervous.
Luckily, Crystal is always with him to diffuse a situation.
They might be at a park, just to get some sun on a rare sunny day when he’s mobbed.
A gaggle of teen and adults, men and women are handing him pens and their own clothes to sign. Cameras are flashing. Everyone is yelling.
John’s terrified. Sensory wise, this is hell. His visual field is a big clump of colors and moving things and bright flashes. His ears are assaulted. He groans and starts swatting at hands that get too close to him. He wants to run.
Crystal puts a hand on his knee, giving it a light squeeze before he stands up. He’s not a big man, but he does look quite gruff. He rips off his sunglasses with a growl and starts yelling. “Go away! Go! Leave him alone! He’s not going to sign anything so leave before I call the police for harassment! Go!” He’s waving his hands and ushering people away.
The crowd finally dissipates. John’s clinging to Crystal’s side, shaken up. Getting mobbed was never fun, but less so when his bodyguard wasn’t there. But he was thankful Crystal took up the part swimmingly.
“Sorry about that,” Crystal says, rubbing John’s shoulder to calm him down. John nods and signs “Home” Crystal figured he would have enough of the park after that.
John learns after that that he is quite popular. So when he’s out, he needs Crystal and his bodyguard with him. Crystal already has enough to deal with!
Does ADHD!Freddie likes cross-stitching or any other type of embroidery?
I would say he likes needlework in relation to clothes. He can focus extremely well on mending clothes or perhaps even making them. One of the boys got too active in their stage outfit and now there’s a big rip down the middle or on the side. Freddie to the rescue!
The man who can barely sit still and listen is now spending a long time sat on a chair, needle and thread in hand, sewing a tear closed with a technique he learned in design school. It’ll look brand new once he’s done with it. He isn’t making a single peep. He doesn’t get up to go do something else. He’s completely in the zone until the hole is no more.
And he does try making clothes too. He’s not great at it, but he considers it more practice and fun than to actually wear it. On days where his mouth keeps running and his feet keep going and his hands won’t stop twitching, he sits himself down and works on something. A shirt or scarf. It’s silent besides the hum of the sewing machine. His mind for once has one single track of thought. He’s not tapping his toes or rocking. Just sewing and sewing.
Those are the few moments Freddie is at peace! Just give him some cloth and a needle and you’ll see how great his attention can be.
Hope you're ok? I love your writing but self care is very important (soft hugs)
💖 Thank you so much!! I’m better after my week sulking haha. Hoping I can force myself to ward off the fall and winter blues.
Hey just wanted to check in!! Im hope youre doing well :)
Hey I hope everything’s alright with you and that you get to rest enough and have energy do those things that make you feel happier. Take care
Take your time and recharge, even if it means taking the winter off. I've got SAD and this time of year is difficult for me as well. So take as long of a break as you need
Hope you are doing better😊just take the time you need and don't pressure your self💕 luv ya!
Don't be sorry babe! Fall and winter is a hard time for a lot of people. Take as much time as you need, we just want you to be ok!!
Hey you don’t need to apologise for not being around or writing because you’re low on spoons but thanks for checking in and letting us know that’s what’s going on.
Thank you guys for understanding and your concern!!! It means so much to me ;A;
I decided to take a week off to get all the sad out of me. I slept in and cried and did nothing. But the week is over and I’m forcing myself to get back on here amongst other things. I don’t know how active I can be but I’ll try!! Thank you guys <3
sorry guys for lack of activity. fall-winter is a bad time for me. Always low on spoons. Gonna go back to vegging out. Hopefully I’ll be on tomorrow 🥱
I need some love for non verbal autistic Brian ❤
Send in a more specific prompt and I’ll try! My brain is a bit fried atm ;n;
based on someone i know, autistic!john where little soft touches cause him incredibly pain and so on his audition for the band he screeches in pain due to freddie shaking his hand and he has to explain and all the boys are really supportive🥺’
John is very touch aversive. His skin is extremely sensitive. His clothes have to be just right or else he’ll be itching and squirming all day. His hair has to be a certain way or he’ll feel it on his neck all day and go nuts. His skin has to be free of all things, like lotion or sticky spots or else...he’ll die.
It’s not giant leap to figure out that he hates touch from people. A firm handshake feels like knives. A pat on the back is like a bulldozer. A hug is on par to hugging a cactus.
John doesn’t want to be touched. It’s an easy concept to understand. If you know him, of course.
At his audition, he is a stranger to the 3 other boys. He didn’t think to warn them. It didn’t cross his mind.
Until the boys are gushing over him. They’re surrounding him, asking him questions, telling him times and places to meet up next week. John is handling all the interaction well. That is, before Freddie gives his shoulder a firm pat. A congratulations to most but a punishment to John.
John cries out, dropping his guitar case, leaping backwards. Freddie’s hand hasn’t been on his shoulder for seconds now, but John can still feel it as if it were still there and it hurts. He hisses as he tries to sooth his shoulder with light touches. The boys are confused. They think his shoulder must have some sort of injury.
“What’s wrong, luvvy? Did I touch a cut or something?”
“You alright, mate?”
“Have you a fresh tattoo or something?”
They try to reach out and comfort him, with touch again. Their hands look like weapons to John. He takes steps back and shakes his head.
"Don’t touch me, please,” John says grimacing.
Their faces sour. He must be a snob. Or anti social. Or just a jerk. Maybe he has something contagious?
John frowns. “Sorry. It’s not like that. I would like to be able to shake your hands or get a pat on the shoulder. But, uh, my skin. It’s real sensitive. Like painfully,” he says, hoping that explains things.
“Did you just get over a cold?” Freddie asks.
John can feel Freddie’s hand on his shoulder. He knew there wouldn’t be a bruise on it if he looked, but it feels like there should be with the pain radiating off of it.
“N-No. My skin is ramped up to a 10 sensitivity wise all the time. Since I can remember. It’s not contagious or anything. Just how my brain is wired, you know.”
“Your brain?” Roger asks, not understanding the connection.
John flushes nervously. “I, uh, I have autism. It’s not a big deal. J-Just my skin. I guess.” He feels like he ruined his chance to be in the band. They’ll surly kick him out now.
Freddie looks to Brian who nods. And then to Roger who also nods. John’s stomach drops. Freddie looks to John, his eyes unreadable, but John’s no good at reading faces.
“Well, then, John. Guess we’ll have to figure things out as we go. Feel free to talk to us more about this autism thing later. For now, welcome to Queen,” Freddie said, holding out his hand.
John went pale looking at Freddie’s hand. He was happy they were interested in learning about him, but did he not pay attention to what had just happened?
Freddie laughed. “You don’t have to touch it, sweetheart. Just hover it close to mine. Our auras will handshake and that’s good enough for me.”
John stuttered, looking at Freddie to see if he was kidding. He wasn’t.
John brought his hand close to Freddie’s, close enough to feel his warmth but not his skin. They bowed their hands as if they were shaking them. A smile spread on both their faces.
Roger was next to ‘shake’ John’s hand, then Brian.
He felt like he was about to float away from happiness.
I saw on NASA’s Instagram a Braille book on astronomy, with pictures of space that blind people could feel. What if for blind!brian’s birthday, Freddie or Roger or Deaky (or all three) gift Bri with the book?
Oh gosh, yes.
The moment they see NASA has accessible material for blind people, they’re draining their wallets dry for their best friend.
Space isn’t very blind friendly. At least, not the academic/sciencey part of it. Brian tried anyways. He can’t see the night sky or look through a telescope, but he can read about the wonders and mysteries of space and it captured his heart at a young age. Everyone told him it was too hard, not worth the struggle, pointless, but he went after an astrophysics degree despite the negativity.
I could see the boys giving him this book as a push to keep going. That they support him no matter what. They support his goal to touch and hear the stars.
The moment his hands touch the book, he’s in tears. He’s spent years learning about space and although he’s made his own makeshift graphs and diagrams, this blows them all out of the water.
The sun feels beautiful on his fingers. He can feel the fire burning on the surface. He can feel the Earth and it’s continents. The craters of the moon.
Every page gets wet with his tears. He can’t stop thanking the boys for this gift. It’s just what he needed to keep fighting. His name will be known not just for his music but for his discoveries in space. For pioneering things that’ll get humans that much closer to the stars.
The boys give him the biggest hug and drown him in kisses. He’ll be there star boy no matter what.
And Brian does end up going far in the field of astronomy. Thanks to the love and support of his friends, he does things people thought impossible. He learns how to listen to stars. How to identify stars, especially new ones with sonification ( X ). The first time a scientists has done that!
As people applaud him for his work and findings, all Brian can think about is that book on his shelf that gave him the courage to continue his studies. And the 3 rascals who gave it to him.
Okay okay okay okay okay!!! By the end of the month, I’ll be starting to take testosterone and I’m so excited!!! My friend, who is also trans and autistic like me, was with me at the therapy appointment when I got the news. We could hardly contain ourselves!!! The second we got out the door, we were jumping and flapping and shaking our heads, and I was squeaking and chirping!!!!!! I’m still so excited and I just—- AHHHHHHH
Eeee, good for you friend!! Hope everything goes well for you!