By: Bri "Margaret" Meisser
Disability is something that encompasses every aspect of one's life. I was given a task to write 3 articles about my disability and how it impacts my ability to engage with the Realms. I will be splitting this series into 3 distinct sections. Bri The Player, Margaret The Character, and Bri The Event Holder. My hope is that by the end of this series, you will have a better respect for some of the struggles our disabled players go through in order to continue to play this game we love. Becoming disabled is the only minority group anyone can join at any time, and we will all deal with health related issues as we age. But maybe by working together, we can create a game that’s more accommodating and understanding to those issues. I am only one disabled individual, and everyone’s experiences are unique. But here are mine. This is Bri the Player.
For those who don’t know me, I’m Bri Meisser and I play Margaret August. I have several different medical conditions and disabilities. But the one that impacts me the most is something called POTS. Postural Orthostatic Tachycarida Syndrome. I’m not the only one in the community who has this condition, and everyone’s severity levels are different. But I can speak to how it impacts me. When I stand up, my heart races. I feel fatigued and dizzy. If it’s really bad I may faint. I’m intolerant to the heat, and the brutal summer weather has made it difficult for me to enjoy those events. I take over a dozen meds a day to try and manage symptoms, as well as infusions multiple times a week. When you see me at events, I may look fine, but I’m usually managing dozens of symptoms while trying to put on a smile. I also have a connective tissue disorder. Walking can be challenging for me at times as my ankles try to roll with every step, and the way I have to fight and hold a sword may look funny. My joints ache and swell when it rains. I’m in constant pain. I can’t hold a pen right, and may struggle with certain dexterity based tasks. All of these things are challenging in our WISIWYG game which requires a lot of athleticism. In spite of this, I show up to events. A lot of them. I play this game because I love it, and it is worth it to me even when I am in pain and struggling for the joy it brings me. I can quest, I can socialize with friends. I can throw events and tell beautiful stories. I may not be able to solve all the problems in the real world, but in our world anyone can be a hero, even me. And that matters.
I am writing this article from a hospital bed having just missed one of my favorite event series. I say this not to gain sympathy, but to establish a difficult fact that I’ve had to learn. Disability requires sacrifice. It can be given willingly or it can be forcefully taken. But when you are disabled your body or your mind will take its due. You may be able to delay this for a time, you may push off the struggle, but the more you push the worse the crash will be. And sometimes this is worth it. Am I willing to spend a week recovering from an event is a constant calculation I have to make. And I’ve had an amazing time at events that I’ve paid for later. But sometimes even if you are willing to pay the price you hit the end of the line. And that’s where I am right now.
I was hospitalized last week with sepsis. It was really scary, but I did my due diligence and took all my antibiotics as prescribed. My doctors cleared me and told me I had recovered enough to make it to KoSD questing. I was so excited that I spent all week doing preparations and planning with the event team on accommodations. But when my fever and chills came roaring back on the Friday of the event, I knew my choice was to go to the hospital myself, or to be taken there in an ambulance during the event. And it wasn’t really a choice at all.
In the section about Margaret the Character I will discuss more about how I get through the events I can make. But the events I can’t make impact me just as much as those I can. People sometimes like to jokingly make fun of me for my war councils and being over prepared for events. But part of why I put in so much preparation before events is that I never know if I’m going to have to miss an event. And even if I miss an event, I want to be able to say I contributed to the success of the questing party. That is the kind of player I want to be and the kind of legacy I want to leave behind in this game.
I’m in a weird situation where my disability has developed since I started playing the game. And part of me is lucky, because I don’t think I’d be here if it hadn’t. But that has been really hard in its own ways. I’m constantly comparing what I’m able to do now to what I was able to do when I first started playing. It can be incredibly disheartening at times. However, it can also be sort of strangely validating in other ways. It’s very difficult to measure the progression of disability day to day because it happens slowly and isn’t always linear. There are crashes and periods of recovery. Internalized ableism is very real and sometimes I ask myself if I’m actually disabled or if I’m faking it. But even with all of my meds and other interventions, if I tried to do what I did at DI2 today it would land me in the hospital if I wasn’t already here. This is a fact I have to live with, and it shapes everything about how I play this game.
Being disabled in our game requires an incredible amount of resilience. Quite frankly, if I was already disabled when I started I don’t think I would be here today. I wouldn’t have the same community ties or support network to make it work. As is, I’ve considered quitting on multiple occasions when it’s felt like the obstacles were too much to overcome. I have so many more things I need to consider when choosing my events to attend than most people do. Just a few of the questions I have to ask myself include:
How far away is the event? Do I have the energy to drive myself there? To drive home?
Will I be able to eat at the event? Do I need to bring my own food? Order out?
What is the parking situation? Will I be able to get back to my car safely? Will I be able to access my mobility aids if I need to swap halfway through an event?
If it’s a full weekend is the event close enough to commute? Do I have friends nearby I can stay with? If I stay on site, what is the food, bed, and bathroom situation and is this suitable for my needs?
What’s the weather like? Is it too hot or too rainy? Do I need to bring my heated or cooling vest? Heated gloves? Raincoat? How many layers and how many pairs of socks? Is there indoor space I can go to warm up/cool down?
What level of mobility aids will I need to get through an event? (This will depend on the weather too). Is the site accessible for a wheelchair or walker? Can I still participate in content if I’m using my aids? Is the level of content I can participate in worth the effort and cost?
What are the Covid/Flu levels in the community right now? Is it safe enough for me to attend this event?
And I have to ask all of these questions for the ~20 events a year I attend, as well as the dozen or so more I miss. It’s exhausting constantly making these mental calculations. I always feel bad about missing an event because I want to support the event holders in our community the same way they’ve helped support me. Part of me feels like I should staff and NPC more often, but it’s super challenging to balance when I desperately need the weekends I don’t play as recovery weekends.
In my first year I attended nearly every event on the calendar. But as events became more frequent and my health worsened, I began having to pick and choose more often. I took time to learn which event series I deeply cared about and which I would be okay missing. Not because I want to miss events but because I have to. I used to get really bad FOMO about missing stuff, because everything was so new to me and I wanted to experience it all. And I still do. But I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I will miss content. I will miss content that I care about a lot. But I also have developed a network of friends who will help me get caught up on what I need to know. And if anyone else has to miss content they care about, I will do my best to give them that same courtesy.
I’ve talked a lot about the struggles I’ve faced. And they are very real and sometimes feel impossible. But it is not all grim. In spite of all of this I’m still here. And in many ways even as I grow sicker, I have become a more happy and fulfilled person thanks to Realms. Even my OOC family have commented with praise and admiration on my support system, which spans all of New England.
When I need help, I have people I can turn to. It was a realmsie who brought me to the hospital and advocated for me when I needed it, and it was a realmsie who took me home when I was released. It was realmsies who called to try and make me laugh even as I was sad about missing content I care about. When my roommate was sick and I wanted to keep myself healthy due to my risk factors, it was a realmsie who opened a spare room for me. When I arrived at my apartment too tired to unload my car, I had half a dozen people waiting to help me unload because they wanted to help. I have had event holders modify content so that I could play. I have had feastocrats make me a special meal so I wouldn’t go hungry. I have had an NPC assigned to push my wheelchair on a difficult site so that I could participate in a module that was important to me. I have had people offer to carry my bags on quests when they’ve become too heavy, and even to carry me if necessary. I have been shown so much kindness from this community it would take a lifetime to repay it back. And so I am grateful.
Next time, I will discuss how being disabled impacts my ability to play my character. From my spellbuild to roleplay decisions. And how Margaret handles being disabled in a world full of magic due to the WISIWYG nature of our game.
Until then,
Bri Meisser
