Musings on Being Handicapped

Sixteen days since knee surgery and I’m making remarkable progress. I can walk in the trailer and climb stairs with no assistance or equipment. I just use one crutch when walking outdoors.

Back to washing dishes and cooking, much to Jenna’s relief. She has been serving as homemaker and nurse for two weeks now, offering quality service at a low price. Thanks Jenna!!!

Being Handicapped throws you into a different segment of the world, one you only glimpse occasionally and then move on. Worth learning about, since the Handicapped are a minority group that anyone can join at any time.

Some Observations
Handicapped Parking Spaces
Yes, there is a pecking order in parking lots. Here is the only place that the Handicapped come out on top, by virtue of primo Handicapped parking spaces. To wit:
* People in ambulances – of course. Tho you seldom see them shopping at WalMart.
* People in wheelchairs, particularly in vans with those cool cranes to pick up and set down the chair. Like the claw you control to snag a prize in a machine at the mall.
* People using crutches, preferably two. Groan as you walk for extra points.
* People with oxygen bottles. Lose points if you’re smoking.
* People with no obvious Handicap. We all look at them with some suspicion…but then you never know.
* The Capped, i.e. everybody else. Formerly known as the Abled when people used the term Disabled.

Yes, it’s true that we smirk just a little when we saunter up to the front door. If we can saunter.

Bathrooms
Yes, we do get reserved stalls in public bathrooms. Certainly fair for people in wheelchairs, who need extra room. But I’ve also noticed that builders are mounting urinals lower and lower on the wall, presumably for Handicapped people. Recently I saw a set of urinals mounted so close to the floor that I expected them to require a Merit Badge in Marksmanship just to urinate there.

Maybe not so surprising, since it was a bathroom in Target store.

Shopping
A few weeks ago, I used an electric shopping cart to shop at a Costco Warehouse store. You know, the kind with a small basket in the front and an orange flag flying high from the back of the cart. They stiffened the flag because the cart wouldn’t go as fast as a five legged ant.

Anyway, riding around in that cart, your Cool Factor sinks to Zero. Chicks don’t make eye contact. They don’t even see you against the background of 10 quart jars of mustard and cartons of 8 dozen eggs.

So, when I saw a Babe in the aisle, I drove down and intentionally clipped her in the side. She cried out and looked down at me. I gazed up with an expression of surprise and mild disorientation. She rolled her eyes and limped away.

Still better than being seen as a jar of pickles.

Bruce