I have just spent way too much time here reading pages and pages of posts on disability issues. I am heartened, disheartened, and moved to tears by some of these stories.
I am no stranger to disability having subbed many times in a special ed room, been an art teacher and pre-school teacher. I lost the three middle fingers of my right hand some 50 years ago. The first thing one little girl said to me on the first day of preschool one year was "My mama said not to ask, but what happened to your fingers?" When I broke my ankle on a patch of ice one winter, we borrowed a pair of child size crutches and 2 wheelchairs and we had wheelchair races and all kinds of fun. One of the mothers wanted to know if I had really broken it or if this was just one of our creative learning experiences.
My husband spent a good deal of 13 years using first a hand wheelchair and then a power chair for Parkinson's disease.
Now arthritis is taking a toll on me. While I can still walk short distances, there are days when even going out to the street to the mailbox will make me wonder if I can make it back in because of the pain. My doctor insists that I must keep moving, that a wheelchair is a one way street for me.
A year and a half ago she did prescribe a handicapped license for my car and a mobility device for me. I now have almost 500 miles on this, which would be more except that I live in a very small town. I have used this device in major convention halls in several cities at very crowded occasions--and have never run into or injured anyone. I've moved very slowly or waited patiently when the traffic was so heavy that anyone else had to (and were) pushing their way through the crowd. I've used it at Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri--who incidentally were wonderfully accomodating.
I've encountered many lovely people and a few incredible jerks. I've been yelled at by bicyclists and pedestrians alike. Pedestrians have complained that I was operating in an unsafe manner when I swerved to avoid a small child who darted out in front of me. I have been denied access to a major national retailer, denied access to state conservation areas, required to register and sign a waiver at a mall owned by the largest mall company in the country. I've been required to get a permit when no able bodied person or other disabled person needed one--and the Department of Interior who investigated my ADA complaint upheld it as a "satisfactory solution."
It is not easy being different--especially when you look perfectly healthy and younger than your 77 years. Oh yes, I must add that another thing that makes me different is that I use a Segway and a wheelchair is not an option!
Lily
I am no stranger to disability having subbed many times in a special ed room, been an art teacher and pre-school teacher. I lost the three middle fingers of my right hand some 50 years ago. The first thing one little girl said to me on the first day of preschool one year was "My mama said not to ask, but what happened to your fingers?" When I broke my ankle on a patch of ice one winter, we borrowed a pair of child size crutches and 2 wheelchairs and we had wheelchair races and all kinds of fun. One of the mothers wanted to know if I had really broken it or if this was just one of our creative learning experiences.
My husband spent a good deal of 13 years using first a hand wheelchair and then a power chair for Parkinson's disease.
Now arthritis is taking a toll on me. While I can still walk short distances, there are days when even going out to the street to the mailbox will make me wonder if I can make it back in because of the pain. My doctor insists that I must keep moving, that a wheelchair is a one way street for me.
A year and a half ago she did prescribe a handicapped license for my car and a mobility device for me. I now have almost 500 miles on this, which would be more except that I live in a very small town. I have used this device in major convention halls in several cities at very crowded occasions--and have never run into or injured anyone. I've moved very slowly or waited patiently when the traffic was so heavy that anyone else had to (and were) pushing their way through the crowd. I've used it at Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri--who incidentally were wonderfully accomodating.
I've encountered many lovely people and a few incredible jerks. I've been yelled at by bicyclists and pedestrians alike. Pedestrians have complained that I was operating in an unsafe manner when I swerved to avoid a small child who darted out in front of me. I have been denied access to a major national retailer, denied access to state conservation areas, required to register and sign a waiver at a mall owned by the largest mall company in the country. I've been required to get a permit when no able bodied person or other disabled person needed one--and the Department of Interior who investigated my ADA complaint upheld it as a "satisfactory solution."
It is not easy being different--especially when you look perfectly healthy and younger than your 77 years. Oh yes, I must add that another thing that makes me different is that I use a Segway and a wheelchair is not an option!
Lily
