Oh, how many tmes when I first became disabled was I questioned by people when parkng in a handicap-parking spot. Was not yet using my walker, nor progressed to the wheelchair.
All people would see was a 30ish woman clamoring awkwardly out of her car, then progressing slowly into the grocery. And even though I had that parking sticker, I would inevitably have someone asking me if I hadn't noticed I was parked in the wrong spot?
Always asked them if they wanted to see my medicare card and that always shut them up. But it was a pain having to go through this anytime I happened out.
Now, I do understand their point - they were accustomed to seeing the disabled using some sort of aparatus which signified they were, indeed, n need of special parking. They were only trying to protect the spaces for those they deemed truly in need - not for those who were cheating the system in some way.
And then, when out in my wheelchair, I'm invisible! Now, I know I'm not because people don't go slamming into me - the path parts like Moses through the Red Sea - but it is really sort of spooky to disappear so completely!
I'm never going to appear in a stage production of "Riverdance." But, hey, guess what? Millions of other people never wll, either!
We are each and every one of us charged with the duty of followng that path laid out ahead of us. It holds adventure, excitement, love, sadness, boredom, joy - all of the wondrous elements that make a life complete.
The key is being open to the journey and realizing that our disabilities are only a part of the equation - not the full and complete essence of who we are.
Peggy E.
