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gabriel
Love and ferrets and pretending to be a writer.

2003-09-02 5:32 AM
wheelchair

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Mood:
kinda zingy (rhymes with dinghy)

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Reading: _Sophie's World_
Weather: clear and willl be a hot one today
The ferret is: in her cage. She peed on the floor.

Bob said that it was interesting how a person becomes invisble when they're in a wheelchair.

Might be so. I was kind of watching people from mine on Friday when I was at the aquarium. It was temporary -- I hurt my knee on Wednesday and wasn't walking very well. I have experience with being out of a wheelchair, so I could see any noticeable contrast.

And, yes, I think people were not talking to me or looking at me. Mostly. But most people don't talk to strangers at all -- and few of them do as much as I do. Hell, I'll talk to anyone any time. It seemed to me that on Friday people talked with me when I started it, and they seemed relieved. Odd. Relieved, maybe, that I was a regular person after all, whatever that means? (I am certainly NOT a regular person, but I can fool the public -- often for hours at a time.)

How they were looking at me, or not looking at me? Well. It was studiedly casual. Then, if I spoke and they spoke back (No one started a conversation with me. No one.) they seemed relieved, as I mentioned, and happy. [Insert shrug here.] Maybe somewhat condescending. Is this possible? I onolyt got that vibe from two people. I talked to quite a few, as is my wont, so it was interesting to me the similarities of responses. My husband (still a little thrill goes through me to call my spouse of seven weeks "husband") was spending time talking piles of photos so I had opportunities to talk with several people.

ANother thing. I think it has been drummed into skulls that "disabled people don't want help." That may be so. But me, I am not disabled, not in the mobility-impaired way, not usually, and, dammit, I was happy to get help. Those little thresholds going into rooms, or shops? Those are a bitch to get over if you don't know what you're doing and you have a very mobility-impaired wheelchair to deal with. A clerk asked if he could help me, after I groaned loudly and swore gently under my breath at one such impediment. A volunteer at the aviary -- shore birds are so neat, especially puffins (see Gregg's pohotos) -- offered me a boost up an incline when I wanted to move to the place my Gregg was standing with his tripod and all. I wouldnt' ask for help, but accepted when it was offerred.

Offerred. I have rarely offerred help to any "disabled" person unless they were in some obvious state and seemed open to help. A couple of times I have gone up to some lady in a grocery store who was struggling to get something off a high shelf, and asked, "Want me to reach that down to you, Shorty?"

I don't have any firm conclusions. I might explore this a little bit more some time. But for sure? For sure I'd ask for a better wheelchair. That one I had Friday wasn't worth the $4.

love,
Kathy

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:: JOURNAL HOME :: SUBSCRIBE TO THIS JOURNAL :: Click on Kathy Gabriel and read my stories :: 2-in-1 Romance by me (but the back cover's misspelled!. grrrrr.) :: November is National Novel Writing Month! :: The Feel Good Manual - happiness can be learned :: Mugs with the wet ferret :: Fractured Frugal Frieds - the best frugality site around :: The ferrets, and other pics by a talented local (very local) photographer :: Kettins_Bob's journal :: Clarion SF & F writing workshop :: Genevieve's journal (Clarion classmate) :: Phil's website (Clarion classmate) :: Nnedi Okorafor's blog (Clarion classmate) :: Online magnetic poetry :: Dave's interactive html tutorial :: Make a snowflake here - WARNING: Addictive! ::