The Disabled Need Respect Too

Every since I was a child, I hoped that I would never become disabled. Seeing others with physical or mental disabilities was strange to me, because I wondered how they got through their daily lives. I avoided staring at them, mostly because some of them stared back without saying a word. That in itself made me feel uncomfortable.

I wanted to talk with them and ask questions like how they got that way, how they get through their lives, how they feel when others stare, along with many other questions that intrigued me. I refrained from asking because I thought they would get angry for asking. The last thing I needed at that time was more enemies, so I turned away until they were gone. That too made me feel bad for them because I figured most others were doing the same thing and ignoring them. That must feel alienating and very lonely.

At the age of 16, my hopes of remaining physically healthy had been squashed. A spine injury put me into a back brace that caused others to stare, laugh, whisper to their friends and alienate me. I had gone from being athletic and playing in various sports, to experiencing the pain and anguish that those who I had avoided lived with. I had become one of them.

While I continued to push forward in an attempt to live a somewhat normal life, my limitations caused me to leave most of the 54 jobs I have had in my life, including a short visit in the Army. I just went in the Army to see if I could make it. I had been refused by the Air Force because one eye was 5 points lower than their requirements, so the Army was the only other choice. That only lasted 32 days until once again, my back forced me to seek life elsewhere.

In the early 1990’s a car hit me from  behind while I sat at a red traffic light. That impact twisted my spine to the point where my chiropractor said I was really messed up. Not knowing at the time that I would continue being affected after healing, I continued on with my life. A few years later, it once again came back to haunt me.

For 2 years I was treated for carpal tunnel syndrome, but refused surgery. Finally, an occupational physician determined that the problem was not in my wrists, but stemmed from my neck. The rear-end collision had set in motion a condition known as Degenerative Disc Disease. There is no cure for this condition and replacing the discs does not have a good enough track record for my doctor to recommend it.

The Spinal Stenosis (a narrowing of the spinal column) is another by-product that has effects of its own. When you tamper with the spinal cord, the “nervous system highway” leading to all parts of your body, anything can happen. Mine is being compressed by the narrowing column.

That chain of events brings us where I am today: unemployable, constantly medicated, limited from most activities and searching for ways to generate income to survive. That in itself is a challenge since being medicated and in constant pain means frequently losing focus on what I am doing.

Millions of people have some type of disability. We don’t want pity; that only makes us angry. We hate being stared at, whispered about, pointed at or made fun of. We want respect and a chance to do our part in any way we can, just like you and everyone else. Where we are weak in some areas, we excel in others, just like you.