Can you walk from the refrigerator to the couch? Can you run (or
at least attempt to run) to catch your kids? Can you climb up the stairs to
your work or in your home without any difficulty? If so, then you’re likely not
one of the 56.7 million functionally disabled persons in the US (also includes
hearing/vision loss, dementia, mental health…etc.)
I’ve not really questioned my knowledge of disabilities. I trained in a school psychology program focused on social justice and actively take a stance on
understanding forms of power, privilege, and oppression wherever they lay,
including disabilities. I practice as a school psychologist, helping to
identify students with special needs in our schools. Frankly, I thought I "got" it.
Just four days ago, I broke my toe (my right, big-toe, to be
specific). Fractured. Painful. Swollen. I iced it and elevated it all day when
it first happened, but when the swelling didn’t go down the next day, I went to
an urgent care clinic, paid $45 for my visit, which included a boot. I was told
to see an orthopedic surgeon, as well… just in case. That same day, I was able to
call around, take a ½ sick day from work and go to an appointment with an
orthopedic surgeon. Two weeks in the boot, he told me. And then I would need to
come for a follow-up. I wobbled around for a couple of days, painfully taking
my boot off and awkwardly wearing a sandal on my right foot to drive (with the
strap wedged between my second and third toes!). My husband told me to go get a
disability placard so I wouldn’t have to walk so far when I park somewhere. I
called my doctor’s office, and they approved it. I picked up the form, went to
the county tax assessor’s office, and got my placard. Now, I’m still wobbling
around, but I take ibuprofen when my foot hurts too much, and I can pretty much
hang out on the couch.
I was also really concerned about gaining weight/losing muscle
with a broken toe. I work out a decent amount, and worried that so much time
sitting would render all my work null and void. One of the trainers at my gym put
my fears to rest and promised to help me continue to train while staying off my
feet.
Last night, my parents, who live nearby, brought about a week’s
worth of food for Sagar and me so I could stay off my feet and heal more. At
work, my coworkers offer to get me things I need so I can stay off my feet.
In the past four days, I have encountered the kindness of so
many friends, family, and coworkers, to be sure. But I would be remiss if I
didn’t also reflect on how lucky I am to be in this position where my family is
financially solvent. My husband and I have good jobs where we earn money to
live comfortably. I have affordable health insurance coverage and somewhat
flexible hours, which makes it easier to take care of things like injuries when
they come up. I have multiple supports in the form of people who actively try
to make this ordeal a bit easier for me. I have means of getting around and, if
I’m really struggling, can take an uber. My pain hasn’t been so bad that I’ve
been prescribed painkillers. I’m not addicted to anything as a result of my
injury.
Going one step further back: the reason I have these things is
not anything I’ve had control over. I’ve been given these things by being born
into a family who valued education, provided financial stability, and ensured I
transitioned from childhood to adulthood with few worries. At each and every
point, I’ve been lucky.
That’s privilege. Something I don’t have control over that has
allowed me to accumulate these safety nets over time.
To take another vein, though, I am now suddenly aware of what it
is like to lose an ability I previously had. I walk everywhere very slowly. I
have to build in extra time to get places because of how long it takes me to
get in and out of my car. I walk on eggshells because I’m terrified of
re-injuring my toe or stubbing it against something. I notice when places don’t
have elevators, or when I have to take an uncomfortable step up onto the sidewalk
because there’s no graded pavement. I imagine what it would be like not to have
a restroom that’s easily accessible for me, or not to have handicapped parking
available. Things that have been reality for others in the past, and, in many
cases, the present.
Once again, I’m incredibly lucky, and so this is not a “woe-is-me”
post. This experience so far has taught me that I’ve taken my temporary-abled
status for granted. I’m a fairly positive person, and this isn’t stopping me
from living my life in any way. The point is, this isn’t breaking me. For
others, a simple injury (or depressive episode, or loss of a loved one) could.
xoxo
Poonam
Statistics from the U.S. Census:
•
About 56.7 million people — 19 percent of the population — had a
disability in 2010, according to a broad definition of disability, with more
than half of them reporting the disability was severe
•
People in the oldest age group — 80 and older — were about eight
times more likely to have a disability as those in the youngest group — younger
than 15 (71 percent compared with 8 percent). The probability of having a
severe disability is only one in 20 for those 15 to 24 while it is one in four
for those 65 to 69.
•
About 8.1 million people had difficulty seeing, including 2.0
million who were blind or unable to see.
•
About 7.6 million people experienced difficulty hearing,
including 1.1 million whose difficulty was severe. About 5.6 million used a
hearing aid.
•
Roughly 30.6 million had difficulty walking or climbing stairs,
or used a wheelchair, cane, crutches or walker.
•
About 19.9 million people had difficulty lifting and grasping.
This includes, for instance, trouble lifting an object like a bag of groceries,
or grasping a glass or a pencil.
•
Difficulty with at least one activity of daily living was cited
by 9.4 million noninstitutionalized adults. These activities included getting
around inside the home, bathing, dressing and eating. Of these people, 5 million
needed the assistance of others to perform such an activity.
•
About 15.5 million adults had difficulties with one or more
instrumental activities of daily living. These activities included doing
housework, using the phone and preparing meals. Of these, nearly 12 million
required assistance.
•
Approximately 2.4 million had Alzheimer’s disease, senility or
dementia.
•
Being frequently depressed or anxious such that it interfered
with ordinary activities was reported by 7.0 million adults.
•
Adults age 21 to 64 with disabilities had median monthly
earnings of $1,961 compared with $2,724 for those with no disability.
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