If a person looks health, they must be healthy, right? Wrong!
Years ago we took our son to a motocross race to celebrate his birthday. When we arrived at the dome and learned the numbering order of the seats, we realized our seats were near the top. My husband pointed out a disabled elevator, but I refused. It was a day of celebration and I was feeling good so I took the stairs, one at a time until I found my seat. After sitting down, my family praised my accomplishment and said they couldn’t remember when I had been so active.
After sitting for nearly three hours, my body stiffened. When it was time to leave, I could barely walk, let alone go down the steps. Reluctantly I gave in to the elevator and told everyone we’d meet at the bottom.
When the doors opened, the operator looked at me from head to toe and in a stern voice said, “This elevator is for disabled people only.” Feeling a knot in the pit of my stomach, I took a deep breath and for the first time ever, I said, “I am disabled.” She hesitated, but finally let me on.
When I stepped in, I noticed all of the passengers had wheelchairs, canes, crutches or some type of aid. As we rode down, the voices inside of my head began to debate. One voice told me to step off of the elevator and limp like I’d never limped before, while another reminded me that I’d come too far to fake it. Choosing the latter, I walked off to the best of my ability.
During the ride home, I replayed the debate several times and was mad at myself for considering to exaggerate my limp. I finally acknowledged I am disabled, yet it wasn’t good enough. Why did I feel the need to prove it to a group of strangers?
In the early 90’s, my lower extremities were attacked by arthritis and I literally had days when I could not walk. Both feet were deformed with detached metatarsals poking out the bottom and my knees were bad. Atrophy set in throughout my body and I was so skinny, when I turned sideways I almost disappeared.
Being weak and in pain, I rarely ventured out alone. But one day I felt the need to prove my independence so I drove to the store. I was confident and determined. I knew if I could lean on a shopping cart, I’d be able to accomplish my task and replenish some of my self-worth.
Deciding to use the handicapped parking, I displayed my placard and exited the car. Concentrating on every step, I was bound for the entrance.
Suddenly, a woman approached me yelling accusations about parking illegally and taking handicap spots away from those who really need them. While she continued to yell and draw attention from other shoppers, I returned to my car, sat down in the front seat and began to untie my shoes. I removed the first shoe and handed it to her. She stopped with her accusations and insults, then [loudly] asked what I was doing. I replied [just as loud], “Lady, I’m giving you my shoes. After you have walked a mile in them, come back and we’ll talk about why I parked here.”
At that point, she waved her hands in the air and walked away, shouting things about me being a lunatic and crazy.
Unfortunately, there will always be people who abuse the systems, but why do those in need have to pay the price? To most, the little things in life are meaningless. To some, they are great accomplishments! How do we keep others from stealing our glory? Do we need to go through life with signs on our backs or labels on our foreheads?
Patricia