People often ask what’s wrong with me, or more rudely, “What happened to you?!?” I try to give as short of an answer as possible because my story is complex and I know most people don’t want to hear all that. “I have a degenerative disorder,” is my standard answer.
But terms and words jangle around people, and I caught myself wondering about these things, how to describe myself and others with dignity — you know short of just calling them by their name. I usually don’t ask about a person’s physical make-up, unless I see someone in a cast or with stitches that weren’t there before. And I know them and care for them.
Anyway, I had to go three places yesterday where using a wheelchair wasn’t an option. I wonder sometimes when I’m in a wheelchair permanently, how I’ll get places. I’m working on it, checking out medical transport and the Memphis PLUS bus. But for now, I can still hobble a bit. So sometimes I do — but only when others are with me, in case I fall and can’t get back up.
When I got settled and rested, I drew myself with a handy cap.
It cheered me considerably.
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