Parking stickers and invisible handicaps
Here’s a poignant piece about what it’s like to have a handicapped parking sticker and a bona fide disability and yet look rather normal:
Just as I closed my car door and stuck my key in the ignition, a loud thud made me jump and look at my side-view window, which now appeared to have coffee streaming down it.
“What the hell?” I muttered to myself. But before I could even begin to process what had just happened, the woman who threw the coffee cup made the situation very clear.
“Get the f*ck out of the handicapped spot, you loser!” she screamed at me. “You have legs, so use them! I watched you walk in and out of that building and you are a lazy excuse for a human being!…
The author is 32 years old, looks fine, and has an invisible illness:
You can’t see my strength wasting away from a genetic disorder (it resembles Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome), which ravages my joints and steals my muscle tone. You can’t see that there are times when my lung function hovers around 70 percent. You don’t know I’m recovering from a cardiac condition.
You also don’t know that I go to physical therapy for two hours a day, four times a week, in an effort to retain the muscle mass I have, and you can’t possibly understand what it feels like to not be able to push a shopping cart with more than a few items in it before your shoulders begin to scream in pain and beg for mercy.
From the time I was in my very early forties and for about twelve years after that I suffered from several chronic pain syndromes as a result of back and arm injuries that caused neuropathy. I’ve chronicled on this blog some of what I went through (for example, see this). It involved near-constant moderate to severe pain twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and drugs hardly touched it—although I never went the methadone route that the doctors would have prescribed for me. I was absolutely terrified of that, although at the time the drug supposedly offered the best chance of making a dent in neuropathic pain.
I moved rather stiffly and rigidly but looked basically normal, although strained and tired beyond my years, and most of the time I could walk. So you couldn’t see my problem, which was pain and some weakness. In particular I could hardly carry anything for very long. It didn’t even have to be something heavy to give me problems; carrying a piece of paper for a block could be difficult because of the way I had to position my hand and fingers. At the worst of it, brushing my teeth or lifting a cup was extremely difficult, too.
I easily could have gotten a handicapped sticker for my car. My doctors were willing to do it. But I desisted. I’m not saying that to portray myself as some sort of hero or even especially brave. I probably should have gotten one; it would have made my life and that of my family much easier. One of the reasons I didn’t get one was fear of the sort of abuse from strangers that this woman describes in her piece. But the other reason was something else—something more difficult to describe because I’m not really certain of its components, but let’s call it stubborn mulishness.
I just didn’t want to admit I needed that sticker. And anyway, I didn’t need it, because I could walk. That I was sometimes walking with tears in my eyes didn’t matter all that much because in those days I had tears in my eyes a lot. My lack of a parking sticker was a sort of game I played with myself to tell myself things weren’t all that bad, a game of denial.
I would never criticize anyone who decides differently. And the woman who wrote that article sounds as though she’s a lot worse off than I was. But I am stunned at how many people seem to think it’s a great idea to shout epithets and insults at people whose disabilities are not immediately apparent, and to call them malingerers. It’s part of a general arrogance I find to be all too common in the general population about the entire phenomenon of chronic pain.
Yes, there are fakers and frauds. I’ve even known some people I’d consider to be in those categories. But not all that many. And don’t assume for a moment than you can tell them apart from those who suffer but look relatively normal. Just be happy if you’re not in their shoes.
Neo
I read your 2009 essay. It fairly well confirms what many people don’t appreciate: There can be a wide variety in the quality of medical care. And doctors are human too. They have opinions that are not always right. Medicine is as much art as it is science. Obama would never concede that point.
A former colleague was in that condition. She looked healthy and fit, but one leg had been shattered, and she choose not to have it amputated. She didn’t have much walking range and she was often in the 6-7 range on the standard 1-10 pain scale. But she looked fine. And yes, got flak when parking.
I dealt with chronic illness for many years. (I struggle with it today, but it’s mostly under control via nutritional supplements.)
I found that walking with a cane, even when I didn’t particularly need it, did wonders. I had it if I needed it… and, more germane to this discussion, people could SEE there was something wrong, and didn’t give me a hard time about it.
By the way — let’s take a moment to acknowledge how times have changed. Not all that long ago, it would not have been uncommon to hear someone say something e.g. “get out of the way, you @!%$ cripple!” These days, you get criticized for NOT showing consideration for the disabled. Interesting, no?
If you’re handicapped but not obviously so, you can protect yourself against assaults like this by using a cane – a good sturdy wooden one. Then when somebody attacks you, hit them in the knee with it. It sounds like you could have used a cane sometimes anyway.
When my mom was living with me, we got the HC card for the times she was not feeling well (she had a heart condition). And going out to the store was sometimes the only way I could get her to walk. I always tried to get a close spot and not use the HC spot since I could always leave her at the store and get the car.
When she was unsteady, she used a walking stick. It was better for her since she walked without stooping and it was decorated which resulted in a lot of friendly discussions with strangers, which was also good for her!
This is us now. Spontaneous, uninformed judgments about the fairness of someone else’s actions, menacingly delivered with complete confidence that we’re right. How in the world do we recover from that?
Well-put, Nick. So sad. Years ago (early ’80’s), I remember an Alistair Cooke column that appeared in the L.A. Times. The title was “Whither, thou America?” In it, he addressed the necessity of manners to maintain a desirable culture/nation. He saw it coming, our descent into rudeness and incivility.
I don’t know how many fakers and frauds there are. Nobody does. There could be a lot or a little. Knowing people and knowing that there’s not that much oversight about issuing a disability sticker, I’d come down on the side of a lot. I’ve known people who were initially disabled and just keep getting the placard renewed year after year automatically. Also, people who can walk just fine but have some other disability so they get the placard.
Lot of a- holes in the world.
I wouldn’t make the assumption one way or the other in an individual case,though. Certainly would never throw coffee at a person. Between the fakers, the self-appointed community scolds, and the government, I try to to interact too deeply with anyone I don’t already know.
Obviously what was done to this woman was totally unacceptable but I think what drives some of this is that just about everybody knows at least one person on Social Security disability that is still able to do all kinds of things and almost certainly could work if they really had to but instead they game the system. Personally I know of a guy that has been on disability with a back injury for 10-15 years that still is able to take side jobs building fences and decks but somehow is still ‘disabled’.
When enough of the populace is gaming the system there will be some level of pushback and unfortunately it will sometimes fall on those undeserving of the scrutiny like the author of this piece.
There’s much less trust today than there was say 50 years ago. Back then, giving someone the benefit of the doubt was the norm, today just the opposite. Trust in the mass media is at an all time low. How many politicians are viewed as trustworthy? Large corporations? The Federal government? Schools?
Today, trustworthiness must be proven.
We all know how little Hillary is trusted but what about Trump? Not dislike but how many trust him…
So, from the President on down, we have a distrustful, fractured society.
Just exactly as the Left has worked these many years to achieve.
The handicap parking sign logo features a wheelchair, so maybe some people believe it requires one. Not sure if a different graphic would help though.
Esther: that is a good point.
In Beverly Hills, all new Mercedes, BMWs, Ferraris, Maseratis, McLarens,, Laborginis, and Corvettes come with a handicapped sticker, don’t you know?
I have MS. I can walk short distances, but make use of a forearm crutch, and often need a wheelchair. There is a lot of episodic nerve pain which visits at unpredictable times.
I don’t tend to talk about it much, and do not suffer from a depressive nature, so I’m generally in a reasonably good mood. My condition could be much worse.
When I was 24, I got a job through Civil Service and ended up working at the VA hospital in the surgical intensive care unit, where I learned a great deal. I then worked in an inner-city emergency room for close to seven years.
I was always writing fiction, without benefit of an MFA or belief that such was desirable. I am now acclaimed as a “cult author” in certain circles, etc.
The MS did not manifest itself until I was 35, my first novel about to appear. This incurable, progressive disease has complicated though by no means ruined my life. When pain does not threaten you with imminent death it is not that frightening. Medications have proven themselves imperfect but far from useless in my case.
If you need it, then you might as well get that handicap sticker and park in those spaces. Where I live, they tend to be unoccupied most of the time, and it seems a shame to let them go to waste.
I find it easier and quicker to park a little further away, then walk in, rather than wasting time circling around for the closest open spot. And I don’t mind the exercise.
Esther – That really is a good point.
GB – I don’t think it’s deliberate on the part of the left – at least, outside of the hardcore Weather Underground types. To me, it just looks like more of their inability to understand human nature or see the obvious consequences of their actions. Destroy, destroy, lie, destroy, lie, hey wait a second how come people don’t trust the establishment now that we run it?
About 20 years ago when we retired and moved to my hometown, which is a retirement community now, my rheumatologist told me I should get a handicap placard and license plate. I thought I didn’t need one but he continued to tell me to get one to protect my knees.
I did finally get one when I had to have contisone injections and then had knee replacement surgery. He said that with the size of the big box stores of today the exercise of going from one side of the store for bread to the opposite side for milk was plenty for someone in my shape. I refused to admit to that until I had to.
I still don’t use it all the time because it is a retirement community and there are many who though they may be younger, are in much worse shape than I am.
The classic example of disabled and misconstrued is the hearing impaired… when your deaf or have problem with directional hearing (cocktail effect) disabled is not the first assumptions people make to believe they recognize what they are seeing.
That made me laugh ruefully.
It’s way too bad that a cop wasn’t around.
And its a damn shame that so many people lack the capacity to know that there are unknowns, such as the true health of someone who at a particular moment appears ambulatory.
Further to my above comment, I have a friend who seems real strong for the first half block of a walk, and then he has to lean against a wall to rest and catch his breath.
If she were not enforcing the handicapped parking spaces the coffee thrower would be assaulting someone else over a perceived sin. In my mind her arrogant self righteousness and her willingness to take matters into her own hands with violence if she deems it necessary fits the leftist mindset precisely.
I spend enough time in retail parking lots as I service equipment for retail establishments, so I often get to observe various establishments and their parking woes. On top of this I often send the wife in and wait, like many men. I do believe that at least in my area 1.) there are way too many HC spots allocated by code and 2.) many are abused by people who flat out don’t need them. That’s my belief but I would never confront someone or fling coffee.
Another possibility is misuse by alternate drivers in households that actually do need the permit. For example, my mother is recovering from a spinal surgery gone horribly wrong and my brothers and I take her to PT or the doctor a few times a week. We almost always drop her at the door and park. She will say “why don’t you use the handicap spots?” and I say “because I’m not handicapped.” Whereas I have watched other abled bodied people do exactly that…drop off the afflicted and then park in the HC spots. At medical establishments, HC spots are almost always full, whereas at most supermarkets, the oceans of HC spots are almost always empty. A sure sign of a broken system.
It comes down to this. A system that was made by the gubmint to help those that need it. And then was allowed to fester and devolve as there was no practical way to manage the system and no practical authority to manage it. And thus the situation we appear to have. Kinda like most everything government gets involved with.
Spec’s comment at 7:36 is right on: the state gets involved in order to “help”, and their help becomes a burden.
And having found a solution to a problem that was not really a problem, that solution is now gamed by people who only marginally need the solution. Case in point: the morbidly obese shopper who wants to park near the store in order not to have to walk, when walking would very possibly be the best (and most) exercise they would get all day.
People who thus take advantage of a “solution” are the reason others feel they are within their rights to throw coffee and shout.
Imagine, for a second, if the state had decided not to get involved. Some people who would benefit from a close parking space would have to decide whether to park further away and walk, or they would have to shop at a different time. Not an insurmountable problem (with apologies to our hostess, who did not avail herself of the “help” anyway), just forcing us to make a decision. That decision is, “shall I shop at this store now when the parking spaces near the door are full, or come back later? Or maybe shop somewhere else?”
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When my mom was alive, and I would go visit her, we would sometimes go out. She had (and needed) a handicapped placard. She was good for only one direction — either into or out of the store. I would either A) Drop her off, and park in the HC spot, so we could walk to the car together, or B) We would park in the HC spot, walk into the store, and afterwards, I would run out and get the car. I preferred choice A because if I ran out to get the car, she would sometimes start walking anyhow…
One time she fell and cracked her head on the pavement. An ambulance ride, and a check in the emergency room revealed a small subdural hematoma.
She hated the idea that she was weak, and could no longer do the basic stuff she never through twice about before — like walk the short distance between the HC parking spot and the entrance to the store. And sometimes, she just REALLY wanted to soldier on and just do it — by herself, with no on there to catch her.
So don’t judge the people who drop someone off and then pull into the HC parking — they could have someone like my mom.