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?
I have lived most of my life just accepting and trying to manage the pain. I have always tried to do whatever I can physically and learned to accept that there are just some things that I cannot do.
I have experienced discrimination and abuse when confronted by people who assume that if you cannot SEE a disability then the person must be physically able. It saddens me that this attitude is not only confined to the uninformed public, but also exists within the field of medicine.
In August I attended my GP surgery to request stronger pain relief and a referral back to my Orthopaedic Consultant. My condition had been getting worse and after being prescribed stronger medication and being told to take a week of bed rest I was still finding it a struggle to walk and take care of myself and my son.
I was horrified when my GP asked me if I was "faking it" in an attempt to claim benefits (I would like to point out that I have NEVER received financial aid or support as a result of my disability) and then went on to say that I do not “look” as if I have a disability and refused to give me both pain relief or referral.
All of this from the same GP who had prescribed me medication and bed rest only the week before!I was shocked to say the least and disgusted by my treatment and told the GP calmly that I found his response extremely offensive and suggested that if he checked my medical records he would see that I have a long standing disability. He scanned my records in between signing other patients prescriptions and told me there was nothing there.
I asked him to check again as I have always been under the same GP surgery so I was sure they would have my records. He then began to raise his voice, and became completely unreasonable and told me that I should stop being difficult and confrontational and said that he did not appreciate my aggressive behaviour.
At this point my friend and carer who had accompanied me to my appointment got over their initial shock at my treatment and tried to intervene on my behalf, once again asking the GP to check my records. By then I could see that the situation had escalated to a point where nothing would be resolved, so I suggested that we leave. I did however stop at the reception on my way out and enquire about the complaints procedure.
The situation left me feeling humiliated and more alone than ever. If my GP doesn't understand how I am affected by my disabilities then how can I expect the rest of the world to?
Ironically I received a phone call from the GP the next day apologising for his treatment of me as he had “found” my medical records. So, thankfully, I eventually received the referral and the much needed pain relief (after an additional 24 hour wait).
I have needed additional support for more than 6months now and as I am a single parent my son (who is only 10) has had to give up a lot so that he is able to care for me. I am so grateful to the “Crossroads Young Carers Project” for the support they have been able to give my son.
Having witnessed first hand how I am affected by my disabilities my son cannot understand the lack of support from medical professionals. My local authority is unable to offer support and Social Services won't intervene as they have no concerns regarding my son's safety or well being. Friends and family just assume that I am being lazy as it is not a condition they can “SEE” and I admit to hiding the worst of my illness from those closest to me as I was embarrassed (Admitting to people that you occasionally struggle, to dress yourself or even to make it to the bathroom, can be quite daunting). I truly believe that more needs to be done to raise awareness of “invisible disabilities” and there impact on both the individual and their families.
Like you said...
”Walk a mile in my shoes!”
Patricia
On the same token, I find myself wondering about people when they park in handicapped parking and don't look disabled. I try not to judge, but sometimes it's hard.
Leave a Comment