These last few days, I've gotten a very, very tiny sense of what it's like to have a disability. Before I go on, I want to clarify that I am NOT claiming to understand what it is truly like to have a disability. I could never. But, like I said, I got a peek.
Sunday, I was walking down the stairs in our house, carrying Big Girl Sabrina, when I stumbled. I almost fell down the staircase but somehow I stopped myself and sat down hard on my butt, Sabrina on my lap. I figured I'd killed my back but when I stood up, the toe on my right foot next to the pinky was hurting. That's when I realized I pretty much fell on it.
Since then, I've been hobbling around (finally hauled myself to the doctor today, just sprained, no fracture). It's taken me twice as long to get places. People have sighed and hissed at me for walking up and down stairs slowly. People have stared—I've gotten some of those sympathy stares, too. It's been a long few days.
Max is not cognizant of people noticing him. This is a mixed blessing, as it means he lacks that intellectual awareness but at the same time, he is content in his world. I would prefer for him to reach that level of intellect. Is that so horrible? Even if he does become aware of people staring at him or noticing his challenges, I know I can empower him to get past it.
This weekend is my college reunion, we're all going. I hope the toes heal. So, do you think I can drop 20 pounds in two days?
Photo by Joey Harrison.
