Thinking.
As I was hobbling up the street today from the train station -- a feat I barely accomplished, and only because my pride is considerably stronger than my legs -- three different people shoved past me, muttering about slow, lazy fat-asses in their way.
Merry fucking Christmas to you, too.
I was doing my best to stay to the right-hand side of the sidewalk, so that everyone could easily go around me. I tried to pull over courteously whenever I sensed someone breathing down my neck, trying to pass me.
What else do I have to do?
Well, according to at least one man, I have to stay home until I can move to his satisfaction.
You know, it wasn't all that long ago that I was actually in a wheelchair. Walking, of any sort, is a vast improvement.
I hope he felt guilty after I yelled that down the street at his rapidly moving back.
When I was in the wheelchair, I noticed that most people chose to ignore me completely, as if anything lower than their eye levels simply did not exist. If I was out with someone able-bodied, all questions were addressed to that person, even if the questions regarded my dinner order.
The people who did notice my presence either suffocated me with patronizing kindness, or behaved as if I were a hindrance.
I've always tried to treat people with limitations as if they were no different than anyone else. I try to notice when someone's using sign language, and make sure that they can easily read my lips. I move to one side when I spot a Seeing Eye dog and its person, so that they can more easily navigate foot traffic. If I someone comes into either of my jobs in a wheelchair, I'll usually say, "Hi. Let me know if you need any help."
But there's a difference between offering reasonable assistance and acting as if someone is incapable of doing anything for herself.
I've always prided myself on my independence. One of the things that grated most about my recent illness was my inability to do something as simple as go to the kitchen and serve myself a bowl of ice cream to eat in front of the TV.
I used to take for granted that I could walk anywhere I needed to go, or park the car in the farthest spot without worrying that I wouldn't be able to make it into the store.
Walking eight blocks up the street today from the train station was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I had to stop at City Hall and sit down to rest, actually weeping from the exertion, and wondering if I should call work and have someone come to rescue me.
I was far too embarrassed to do that, though -- so I rested for half an hour and dragged myself the distance. Hopefully it will be easier to reverse the process tonight.
So I'm still not up to snuff, but the fact that I'm up and around and fucking walking is enough for me.
It should be enough for everyone else, too.
Maybe the fact that my disability was temporary in nature is coloring my perceptions, but I suddenly have a great deal of empathy for Kathy, the woman whose story I told in this entry. While I was in that chair, I wanted to be treated no differently than a very short, able-bodied person.
It bothers me immensely that I was not seen as such.
Readers with limitations? Anyone care to share their experiences? I'm very interested in hearing your contributions.
Merry fucking Christmas to you, too.
I was doing my best to stay to the right-hand side of the sidewalk, so that everyone could easily go around me. I tried to pull over courteously whenever I sensed someone breathing down my neck, trying to pass me.
What else do I have to do?
Well, according to at least one man, I have to stay home until I can move to his satisfaction.
You know, it wasn't all that long ago that I was actually in a wheelchair. Walking, of any sort, is a vast improvement.
I hope he felt guilty after I yelled that down the street at his rapidly moving back.
When I was in the wheelchair, I noticed that most people chose to ignore me completely, as if anything lower than their eye levels simply did not exist. If I was out with someone able-bodied, all questions were addressed to that person, even if the questions regarded my dinner order.
The people who did notice my presence either suffocated me with patronizing kindness, or behaved as if I were a hindrance.
I've always tried to treat people with limitations as if they were no different than anyone else. I try to notice when someone's using sign language, and make sure that they can easily read my lips. I move to one side when I spot a Seeing Eye dog and its person, so that they can more easily navigate foot traffic. If I someone comes into either of my jobs in a wheelchair, I'll usually say, "Hi. Let me know if you need any help."
But there's a difference between offering reasonable assistance and acting as if someone is incapable of doing anything for herself.
I've always prided myself on my independence. One of the things that grated most about my recent illness was my inability to do something as simple as go to the kitchen and serve myself a bowl of ice cream to eat in front of the TV.
I used to take for granted that I could walk anywhere I needed to go, or park the car in the farthest spot without worrying that I wouldn't be able to make it into the store.
Walking eight blocks up the street today from the train station was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I had to stop at City Hall and sit down to rest, actually weeping from the exertion, and wondering if I should call work and have someone come to rescue me.
I was far too embarrassed to do that, though -- so I rested for half an hour and dragged myself the distance. Hopefully it will be easier to reverse the process tonight.
So I'm still not up to snuff, but the fact that I'm up and around and fucking walking is enough for me.
It should be enough for everyone else, too.
Maybe the fact that my disability was temporary in nature is coloring my perceptions, but I suddenly have a great deal of empathy for Kathy, the woman whose story I told in this entry. While I was in that chair, I wanted to be treated no differently than a very short, able-bodied person.
It bothers me immensely that I was not seen as such.
Readers with limitations? Anyone care to share their experiences? I'm very interested in hearing your contributions.