My Left Foot - Day 18

Yep, it's still there...marginally better but it wasn't that painful in the beginning so I can honestly say that it's been a bit of a breeze...until yesterday that is.
Yesterday, I thought I'd take a spin around town and do a little bit of well earned retail therapy. I thought I'd take a look at shoes as I haven't even been able to contemplate pretty shoes for a very long time.  Just practical ones...ones that didn't hurt.
I'd forgo the mobility scooter and take my chances on the crutches  I haven't been out since the operation -and I don't count the visit to the hospital to get the dressing changed and the visit to the petrol station, afterwards! So I was kind of looking forward to leaving the kids at home, especially as BH had volunteered to come home early to take me out for a coffee! How could I resist such a gallant offer? But I wish I hadn't.

It was...scary.  It was very scary.  I was invisible even with the crutches.  I was jostled. I had giant, audible "Tuts" whispered into my ear as able bodied humans whooshed passed. People came to stand in front of me as I peered at the baked goods.  I'd actually become invisible and a pest...both at the same time!

I was advised not to walk without the crutches in public.  People apparently avoid you when you're on crutches..apparently. Which wasn't apparent to me.

I kept my eyes to the floor in case, inadvertently came across an uneven pavement, or step. I couldn't move that fast and I couldn't avoid the crowd swervers.  You know, the ones who swerve out into the oncoming traffic because the crowd is moving too slowly, only to come nose and face to my forehead as I edged my way along hugging the shop-fronts. 

"Hrrumppp!!" one particular swerver admonished. My crime? Looking in a shop window.  He kicked my crutch (I'm sure in error) and had I not been resting on my good foot I would've gone "a" over "t"!

It's given me food for thought.  It's made me realise we take a lot of disability for granted as it's not ours.  Not the access, ramps or parking facilities but the small acts of human kindness, of thought, of care.
  • Being aware that when someone is on crutches they might not be able to take their hands off their crutches to prevent the door from slamming in their face. 
  • Thinking of assisting a customer who's appearing to have difficulty with a basket and is pushing it along with a crutch.
  •  Holding the lift as someone hobbles towards it and not keeping your finger on the "Close" button.  
  • Being patient in the car park as someone gets into the car whilst holding up the traffic as they couldn't manoeuvre their way passed the tightly parked vehicles. 
  • Thinking that because someone is disabled their capacity for coherence is limited too.
As we stood waiting for the lift to the car park (which had quickly disappeared on my approach) a middle aged woman turned to BH.

"Wassa matta wiv 'er. then?"

"Foot operation." he replied.

"Oh. My mum 'ad one and it was a nightmare. Couldn't get outta bed for a munf"

At that point I pretended I was deaf too...what was the point? She would never have got "it", would she? 






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