Although it's been correctly emphasized in disability rights (and intersectional) circles that "disabled" and "sick" aren't the same thing -- that plenty of disabled people aren't sick at all -- it's also true that some disabled people are sick, and I happen to be one. My disability is a longterm, chronic physical illness. I live with it, I do my best; this is my life.
The TAB privilege that I finally articulated tonight is this: some people who know I am sick expect a different response from me when they ask "how are you?" than they would expect from TABs. Not everyone, of course! But many people who know me ask "how are you?" and fully expect a CFIDS update. This sounds sweet and caring, and it mostly is, in terms of intention; but think about the question "how are you?" in our culture. It generally offers many possible paths for the askee to take. You can answer shallowly or deeply, broadly or narrowly; you can be honest or you can brush it off. You can choose according to mood or context or whether you like the person. You can reasonably expect that if you answer "fine, and you?", things will go on from there.
But because I have a chronic illness, I find that lots of people ask "how are you?" and expect to be told exactly how my CFIDS is doing lately. As if it's their right to know. And maybe I'm happy to tell them -- but maybe I'm not. Why shouldn't I be allowed the same options as TABs, the same right to choose a casual answer if I want?
I've tried it, and when this phenomenon is happening, a casual "fine" elicits... wild joy. Which is bizarre and irritating to me. The asker acts like the circus has come to town. They act like I have announced some EXCELLENT NEWS. They say "Oh, I am so glad your health is better than before!!"
Which... maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. Maybe I just want the same option to employ social boundaries that TABs have.
*TAB = "temporarily able-bodied." This is a term for people who are not disabled. It works as a reminder that anyone can become disabled at any point.