Week 9: Counterintuitive
I feel small. Hell, I am small after dropping almost 15 pounds after a month-and-a-half of invalidism. But it's more than that. My perspective has changed.
I am sitting eye-level with people's waists. A wheelchair - God, I can barely type the word - is supposed to be a benefit after I nearly... Well, after a brain hemorrhage left me unsteady on my feet, among other things.
But I don't feel helped. I feel small. It is so easy to feel like people are patronizing when they physically have to look down to talk to me.
I didn't think it was possible to feel more dehumanized than I did waking up half-bald, struggling to say the simplest word, and unable to move or feel half of my body. I never would have imagined that sitting in this damn chair while everyone around me stands could trump that. But it does. Of course it does.
I'm 16, and it's my first day back at school.
And this is not me.
I am sitting eye-level with people's waists. A wheelchair - God, I can barely type the word - is supposed to be a benefit after I nearly... Well, after a brain hemorrhage left me unsteady on my feet, among other things.
But I don't feel helped. I feel small. It is so easy to feel like people are patronizing when they physically have to look down to talk to me.
I didn't think it was possible to feel more dehumanized than I did waking up half-bald, struggling to say the simplest word, and unable to move or feel half of my body. I never would have imagined that sitting in this damn chair while everyone around me stands could trump that. But it does. Of course it does.
I'm 16, and it's my first day back at school.
And this is not me.