The Invalid Invalid

I often joke with Len that I feel like an invalid (as in not valid) invalid. But, it's really not funny.

As a person in a wheelchair, however temporarily, I observe the actions of the people around me -- how they interact, what they do -- and I must say I am appalled that folks don't have more compassion or understanding when it comes to the handicapped.

I get stares from grown people who should know better. I know what they are thinking when they see me: "She's so young, I wonder how it happened. That poor woman." Etc. Truth is, people see me and other injured folks as a reminder that anything can happen, and it frightens them. I know because I have felt that way.

Innappropriate stares from the able-bodied isn't where it stops. To add insult to injury, life for the handicapped is a thousand times more difficult because very little accommodates their needs.

I recently went to a nearby fabric store to purchase a couple items for a project. The giant glass doors were not automatic, so I had to push them to get in. I made it, though, and I placed a basket on my lap and began to shop. I got stuck in an aisle and items protruding from the shelves nudged my basket to the floor and everything spilled out. No one was around to help, so I struggled to get the items from the floor. I paid and backed my chair to the door to push out when a young man walking by outside saw me and opened the door for me. (Very nice!)

I will begin physical therapy next week, and there is a facility just two blocks from my house. I thought it would be great to just wheel down for the therapy, but nixed the idea when I saw that the sidewalks in between are not built with the mini-ramps needed at the intersections. That, and the fact the sidewalks are very uneven means I'll have to be driven to sessions. Two blocks.

I can't reach the top shelf of my refrigerator. I can barely wash my hands in the sink because it's too high. I am using the smallest wheelchair available for adults and I only just fit through the doorways in my house.

This weekend, Len and I went with some friends to the annual Decatur Arts Festival. Half of the booths were in the grass and poor Len pushed me hard to get me through. At one point we had to turn and go all the way around a line of booths that we had just passed because there were steps at the end. We had to go back to where we started just to get out.

There were loads of people there and when some people saw me they pushed through in front of me -- like I was a city bus that no one wanted to sit behind in traffic. By rudely pushing through ahead of me, they saved themselves a good two seconds. At one point I said loudly, "Don't mind the woman in the wheelchair. She doesn't matter."

Come on, people. Life is difficult enough for the disabled. Why make it more difficult? My legs don't work right, but otherwise I'm exactly like everyone else. I matter.

I'll be out of this chair soon, thankfully, and I will again join the ranks of the able-bodied. But, I won't push ahead of the wheelchair-bound, and I won't avoid their eyes. Instead, I'll smile as they pass. Just like I would any other human being.