When Is Being Disabled a Disability?

Courtesy toward disabled people tends to run thin. People can be dismissive, careless, sometimes flat-out oblivious. And then I catch myself writing a sentence like that and realize how careless and dismissive it sounds coming from me, so I'll own that too.

My own disabilities come from a few sources: arthritis, a spinal injury I may or may not have, and plain genetics. I put real effort into working around them, which gets harder when someone (me included) expects me to handle things that are clumsy or risky for my body. Cleaning two litterboxes, for instance. My balance isn't reliable, and walking gets worse in crowded rooms or places I don't know. I can't check behind me without rotating my whole body, and I drop things more than I'd like.

Picture how I read to a stranger who has no idea any of that is going on. At gatherings I'll hang back while everyone else is milling around, mostly so nobody bowls me over. Carrying a tray is out. Now imagine that at a buffet. Some people do step in and help without being asked, and I don't take that for granted.

Left alone, with nobody to bump into me or cut ahead of me or lean on the fact that I'm slow, I can manage plenty on my own. Whether the people doing the cutting even register that they're taking advantage, I can't say. For what it's worth, I've done physical and occupational therapy, but some of the therapy that stuck was teaching myself how to do a thing my own way. That could fill a whole separate piece.

I can usually get myself to an event and move around once I'm there, as long as it isn't too far and there are no stairs, though it eats up time. So bathroom breaks get complicated: I finally make it down the hall, and the accessible stall is occupied by someone who doesn't need it. Changing clothes, taking their time, or just finding it roomier.

Some people stay considerate even when it costs them something; others don't. I had an aunt who had polio, came through it, and went back to teaching later with a few adjustments to how she worked. (I nearly wrote "several adjustments" and then thought better of it, in case she'd have bristled at the count.) Back then I didn't understand her life the way I do now.

A lot of people simply don't clock that someone near them has a disability. So they step ahead, knowingly or not, and the disabled person absorbs it. I feel that pinch, and it does feel like being boxed in for no good reason. My kitchen has an island in the middle, handy for me these days, but I still end up waiting while others go first, because one of us has decided I'd slow things down.

Next time you notice a disabled person sitting back while everybody else finishes up, don't assume they're choosing to. Sometimes they aren't choosing at all; it's the only option they feel they've got. How often do people do a thing around us simply because they can, rather than because they should?

One more thing: I don't feel disabled at all parked in my recliner with a book or the TV on. It also happens to be a solid excuse for skipping diaper duty with the grandkids.

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