An observation, of sorts.
As someone who suffers from an 'invisible' illness, I often struggle in coming to terms with the use of crutches for necessity. When I first started requiring additional support for getting about, I was about thirteen years-old and it was more a matter of if-and-when I needed them, rather than consistently. When I relapsed several times over a period of two years, they became more of a prominent figure in my life but, once I got better, I consigned them to the garden shed, thinking that, if anything, they might come in handy if I accidentally broke my leg.
Which, of course, I have. Now, I've experienced the use of walking aids from two separate realms; the realm of 'support' to alleviate joint pain and the risk of collapse, and the need for complete reliance to help broken bones. Part of me, yesterday, felt ridiculous for going out again with the crutches in tow for M.E. symptoms. Judging from the looks I received on the bus and around town, I couldn't realistically justify myself to rely on a stick unless I had a mangled lower half. My confidence in using a stick for the purposes of broken bones has never been an issue but the confidence when it is a matter of keeping oneself upright for the majority of a walk, be it to the local shop or into the city centre, is a different matter altogether.
In this vein, I'd like to discuss the fact that some of the general population are clearly ignorant and impolite, too. When I'd bolstered myself enough to hobble outdoors, down the street and onto the bus, I noticed several young children eyeing me up, a few elderly people giving sympathetic glances and one or two folk simply bustling past. I thought, 'Okay, so it isn't that bad - you can't expect kids to understand and at least the old people understand'. Getting around town was something else even more entirely. From the moment I stepped off the bus, I was bumped into, knocked about and looked at unreservedly. I walked over to the Northern Quarter and popped into the 'trendy' Oxfam and, on my way around the shop, I accidentally caught the back of a young woman's ankle. I immediately apologised and in return, I received a glare - a withering, 'Good, you got in my way' glare. I left the shop embarrassed and obviously more aware of my stick placement. In H&M, the matter was similar, and the aisles are hardly large enough to accommodate an individual using walking aids, so I kept on finding myself attached to clothes or coathangers, or worse still, tripping over myself, with people ignorant to the matter barging past and knocking me. The Arndale Centre was somewhat easier as it is, of course, much more spread out but, again, places like Claire's Accessories and New Look were impenetrable. Claire's simply because the shops are so damn small, and New Look because I had to climb several flights of stairs as I (honestly) felt too embarrassed to ask if they provided a lift. At least, in Topshop they have escalators, though Topshop is again a place where the aisles are designed for anorexics with a set of fully-functioning legs. In queues, I could see some people contemplating whether or not to let me go before them (!), whilst others were genuinely very polite and allowed me to go ahead. I wanted to pop into a shoe shop for some wellies but gave up because the place was packed high full of school-kids and rowdy teenagers and, frankly, having had previous experience of said collectives kicking my sticks from underneath me, I shuffled off disappointed that I couldn't build up the confidence.
Also, for Manchester-folk - wouldn't it be nice for the Arndale to consider seating areas? Not necessarily near any food courts, but simply for people (pregnant, parents, those such as myself) to sit and recuperate, rather than struggle onwards, almost at the point of delirious exhaustion.
On my way back, something did brighten up this otherwise substantially draining and altogether confidence-knocking trip out; upon getting into the bus (and I took note that the driver did not lower the bus for me to get on with ease, causing some issues with getting in and out) a lady kindly offered her seat to me as she was sat in a disabled section. I declined but said 'thank you' regardless, as there was a spare seat just opposite which granted easier access. Nobody else occupying those two rows of seats did the same thing.
What kind of culture do we live in where young people are left to struggle? The world is so terribly concerned with itself that it neglects the few who need extra help. If I were in a wheelchair (heaven forbid, for that in itself is a trial and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemies), the bus driver would've lowered the vehicle for me to get onboard, others would have helped push me and, in shops, I'd have not found myself being bumped into or given angry looks. However, in a wheelchair, you learn that very few shops have a policy on wider aisles, some people will laugh and point and, worst of all, will assume you take longer than they will so attempt to get in front of you in queues. The only place I have visited in all of my time as a 'disabled' person has been the Primark in Liverpool which prioritises wheelchair users in queues and offers a lowered counter so that there is no difficulty in grabbing bags or handing over money.
None of these matters will stop me from using my sticks when I require them but it is genuinely disheartening to be faced with such challenges. A hundred years ago, people were so much more polite and ready to assist (of course, depending on your class status and where you lived, but let's just pop on those rose-tinted spectacles for a moment). Today, we've become so trapped in our own thoughts that we no longer see the rest of the world until it collides with us, sometimes quite literally, and we return it with a nasty glance and a withering sigh.
I'm leaving this public because if anybody happens to stumble across this and wants to express any similar thoughts to their non-LJ friends (or those not on my F-List), they are welcome to.
Which, of course, I have. Now, I've experienced the use of walking aids from two separate realms; the realm of 'support' to alleviate joint pain and the risk of collapse, and the need for complete reliance to help broken bones. Part of me, yesterday, felt ridiculous for going out again with the crutches in tow for M.E. symptoms. Judging from the looks I received on the bus and around town, I couldn't realistically justify myself to rely on a stick unless I had a mangled lower half. My confidence in using a stick for the purposes of broken bones has never been an issue but the confidence when it is a matter of keeping oneself upright for the majority of a walk, be it to the local shop or into the city centre, is a different matter altogether.
In this vein, I'd like to discuss the fact that some of the general population are clearly ignorant and impolite, too. When I'd bolstered myself enough to hobble outdoors, down the street and onto the bus, I noticed several young children eyeing me up, a few elderly people giving sympathetic glances and one or two folk simply bustling past. I thought, 'Okay, so it isn't that bad - you can't expect kids to understand and at least the old people understand'. Getting around town was something else even more entirely. From the moment I stepped off the bus, I was bumped into, knocked about and looked at unreservedly. I walked over to the Northern Quarter and popped into the 'trendy' Oxfam and, on my way around the shop, I accidentally caught the back of a young woman's ankle. I immediately apologised and in return, I received a glare - a withering, 'Good, you got in my way' glare. I left the shop embarrassed and obviously more aware of my stick placement. In H&M, the matter was similar, and the aisles are hardly large enough to accommodate an individual using walking aids, so I kept on finding myself attached to clothes or coathangers, or worse still, tripping over myself, with people ignorant to the matter barging past and knocking me. The Arndale Centre was somewhat easier as it is, of course, much more spread out but, again, places like Claire's Accessories and New Look were impenetrable. Claire's simply because the shops are so damn small, and New Look because I had to climb several flights of stairs as I (honestly) felt too embarrassed to ask if they provided a lift. At least, in Topshop they have escalators, though Topshop is again a place where the aisles are designed for anorexics with a set of fully-functioning legs. In queues, I could see some people contemplating whether or not to let me go before them (!), whilst others were genuinely very polite and allowed me to go ahead. I wanted to pop into a shoe shop for some wellies but gave up because the place was packed high full of school-kids and rowdy teenagers and, frankly, having had previous experience of said collectives kicking my sticks from underneath me, I shuffled off disappointed that I couldn't build up the confidence.
Also, for Manchester-folk - wouldn't it be nice for the Arndale to consider seating areas? Not necessarily near any food courts, but simply for people (pregnant, parents, those such as myself) to sit and recuperate, rather than struggle onwards, almost at the point of delirious exhaustion.
On my way back, something did brighten up this otherwise substantially draining and altogether confidence-knocking trip out; upon getting into the bus (and I took note that the driver did not lower the bus for me to get on with ease, causing some issues with getting in and out) a lady kindly offered her seat to me as she was sat in a disabled section. I declined but said 'thank you' regardless, as there was a spare seat just opposite which granted easier access. Nobody else occupying those two rows of seats did the same thing.
What kind of culture do we live in where young people are left to struggle? The world is so terribly concerned with itself that it neglects the few who need extra help. If I were in a wheelchair (heaven forbid, for that in itself is a trial and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemies), the bus driver would've lowered the vehicle for me to get onboard, others would have helped push me and, in shops, I'd have not found myself being bumped into or given angry looks. However, in a wheelchair, you learn that very few shops have a policy on wider aisles, some people will laugh and point and, worst of all, will assume you take longer than they will so attempt to get in front of you in queues. The only place I have visited in all of my time as a 'disabled' person has been the Primark in Liverpool which prioritises wheelchair users in queues and offers a lowered counter so that there is no difficulty in grabbing bags or handing over money.
None of these matters will stop me from using my sticks when I require them but it is genuinely disheartening to be faced with such challenges. A hundred years ago, people were so much more polite and ready to assist (of course, depending on your class status and where you lived, but let's just pop on those rose-tinted spectacles for a moment). Today, we've become so trapped in our own thoughts that we no longer see the rest of the world until it collides with us, sometimes quite literally, and we return it with a nasty glance and a withering sigh.
I'm leaving this public because if anybody happens to stumble across this and wants to express any similar thoughts to their non-LJ friends (or those not on my F-List), they are welcome to.