the space between ability and disability

photo: Addison Berry

A couple weeks ago, my college had a fire drill at lunch time. I was eating lunch in the cafeteria, which is in the basement. There is an accessible way out...on the opposite side of the building. So I left my lunch, got up, and headed for the stairs.

I don't use stairs very often. And when I do, they are only a couple steps long, like to get to my front door or into the hot tub at the pool. In these cases, I usually try to take my time so I don't lose my balance.

That lunchtime, I practically ran up an entire flight of stairs, then down another few right outside the doors. I didn't have a jacket and it was chilly out, so I walked around the building to the other side of campus where the car was parked. I got there just in time for us to be let back in through the front doors.

Some people might look at this and say that I don't need to use elevators or my wheelchair- after all, I was fine going up the stairs and walking a decent distance during the fire drill. But that wouldn't be true. There are lots of things that I CAN do, that I just usually don't. It's not because I'm lazy or want people to do things for me all the time. It just takes a lot of energy for me to do things that other people don't even realize they do. I am just prioritizing what is worth the extra energy to do and what isn't.

Gary McPherson wrote about this in the book Breaking Bread, Nourishing Connections.

“Soon after getting polio, it seemed important to regain as much physical independence as possible. This was a time of intensive physiotherapy and experimentation. My quest to be as independent as I could be yielded some hard-earned lessons. For example, I was fitted with an elaborate sling that was attached to my wheelchair. The sling supported my left arm and hand so that I could physically feed myself from a tray top that was attached to my chair. I soon realized that the required energy to feed myself combined with my breathing difficulties created more problems than solutions. I made a decision to use my limited energy in a much more focused way. I had grown beyond the need to prove my physical independence and manhood through the act of feeding myself to the point of exhaustion."

 So the next time that you see someone in a wheelchair, don't assume they aren't capable of walking. If someone is communicating non-verbally, don't assume they aren't capable of talking. If someone is being fed lunch instead of eating on their own, don't assume they aren't capable of feeding themselves. Even if these things do happen to be true (and you can't know if they are), it doesn't mean anything about what kind of person they are or what they care about or what they have to contribute.