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arkallen

Distinguished member
Joined
Mar 8, 2009
Messages
268
Reason
Other
Diagnosis
05/2009
Country
AU
State
VIC
City
Wodonga
Now and then a new wind blows, a moment arrives, something shifts irrevocably in the way the world appears; or perhaps in the way we appear in the world. Today I met Christopher, a youngish fellow I see often enough, cruising around town on one of those battery powered mobility scooters. Chris’s Gopher is distinctive. For one thing it has a dog; a surprisingly large animal whose obvious attachment seems to be divided in equal parts between master and scooter; and it also has a rather expansive canopy among its several add-on accessories. I’ve occasionally come across Chris at the Doctor’s practice (where scooter and dog come happily – if incongruously – right into the waiting room). Today we met at the Rehab clinic that I frequent. In the waiting room, of course!

The new wind started to blow later in the afternoon when I was rolling home on Bugger, and found myself travelling in a curious convoy with dog and driver for several blocks. Now, I must confess, I don’t particularly like those scooters! They rush along footpaths at ungodly speed, their driver’s faces fixed in grim determination to make landfall by dusk – or else! Whereas I, in my entirely dissimilar battery powered wheelchair, conduct myself in an altogether more civil manner. I am, by my own admission, vastly superior to the scooter mob. But, to be honest, I wasn’t just immersed in judgemental supremacy; I was uncomfortable. A year or so back, when I was still a bona fide pedestrian, I had occasionally offered Chris a friendly smile, or even a few brief words. But – and I am ashamed to admit this - it was an entirely different experience to meet eye to eye and wheel to wheel on a very public street corner.

Chris doesn’t speak, and as we slowed for successive intersections, making way for one another, he made repeated gestures indicating that he was thirsty. Then we came to a corner cafe, and I realised that his gesturing was an invitation for me to join him inside for a drink. Me, him, our wheels and the dog. So there we were ... ... and I made my excuse: I was hurrying home in time to meet a friend coming to spray our weeds in just a few minutes.

Where Chris had been I have no idea, but I had come from a lengthy session with a Social Worker I see every month. A gifted professional who I have come to trust, I visit her for counsel more than anything else. Today’s agenda had one item: the difficult ‘Functional Illness’ letter I have recently received from a Melbourne Neurologist. My counsellor challenged me to explore my admittedly intense aversion to the psychosomatic theory. "What", she insisted, "makes you sure you are immune to the effects of trauma? Are you so different to the rest of the world?” It was a point well made; a provocative challenge to face my own prejudice and superiority; my assumption that I am innately above the psychological stresses that others battle. I travelled half a block further on my own, and then I backtracked to the Cafe and wrote on Christopher’s note pad a time and day next week for us to meet back and the same spot for coffee. He was delighted!

Elitism, condescension, superiority, segregation, snobbery, racism; call it what you will, there is something sinister that universally divides man from man. Sadly I feel its appeal. Why are our differences from one another more enticing than our commonality? Where does this need to set ourselves above other people spring from? Perhaps it takes a lifetime to meet ourselves.

Another odd thing happened this week. Waiting for an end-of-day bus a scruffy, agitated man began calling at passengers at the busy stop; his language obscene and intimidating. He turned his attention to a boy in school uniform, a mild looking fellow in his early teens. This lad was visibly afraid, more so when the disturbed stranger strode right into his space and launched into an incomprehensible, offensive rant. So I drove Bugger in between them and held the man's manic gaze; insisting he leave the boy alone. He was livid, but he backed down, and I shadowed him at a distance until the bus took us all away. I suspect the reason I succeeded, and why he didn't take a swipe at me as I thought he might, is that in a weird manner we were no threat to each other. It may be reading too much into the moment of confrontation, but I felt there was an instant of mutual recognition, a disarming and pacifying glimpse of the team colours we share in some strange way. Disability in all its diversity can have an oddly unifying effect. After all, aren't we each dealing, as best we can, day by day, with our own unique patch of human frailty?

Rejoice!
 
Roderick, In comparing the change from being a "well" person confronting disability to a disabled person then "alongside Chris", and the change in perspective, I'm reminded of being the person who takes care of others. The one who delivers food, or cleans, or visits--changed into the one in need, accepting the care of others. Now that others (friends) take care of my basic needs, I quickly realized how much more I preferred being a care Giver as opposed to a care Taker. It's humbling. Ouch. And embarrassingly so. As you said, "Perhaps it takes a lifetime to meet ourselves."

I'm glad you were successful with the agitated man, Roderick. No offense, but I found that very moving... the fact that you, seated in Bugger, would get in front of a frightened boy and confront this man. It would have seemed very appropriate when you stood at what... six feet seven? However, doing it from a wheelchair seems heroic. And I realize that isn't your point at all. We, in our weakness, have joined the team of the disabled, no matter the type of disability.

Thank you once again.

Blessings... and enjoy your time with Chris this week!
Ann
 
wow Roderick!...thank you for your wonderful insight...you are a gifted man as seen in your writing skills and your love for people and life. Thank you!
 
KBO Roderick! I look forward to hearing about your lunch. Amazing how our perspectives change when our heads drop a few feet.
 
Once again, i loved your writing. you have a way with words. its always a joy to read them.
Seems to me that the sooner mankind realizes that we are all disabled, in one way or another, then maybe we can begin to accept each other for who we really are, and stop judging each other for what we lack.
 
Damn Roderick, you once again hit the nail on the head! I often struggled with those selfsame feelings of superiority. I always knew deep down that "there but for the grace of God go I" but still, those feelings were there, I'm ashamed to admit. I think Liz felt them too, and after she got sick I think she felt like she had become somewhat less in my eyes. She never did, but our relationship changed significantly. Only now, looking back, do I begin to see what happened. So much went unsaid between us. We wasted what could have been some wonderful times. I applaud your initiative to engage with Chris. We are all, indeed, disabled to one extent or another. That should never be an excuse to avoid coming together and making friendships.

Dick
 
wow Roderick!...thank you for your wonderful insight...you are a gifted man as seen in your writing skills and your love for people and life. Thank you!

Hello Kirk,
Im not sure if we've met before - although I must say Im at a stage where I'm still working out who is who with user names and real names etc etc. But I gather you are new here and newly diagnosed. I hope you're doing well. A friend of mine says that you love life more once you discover that it comes in limited supply.

Blessings,
Roderick.
 
KBO Roderick! I look forward to hearing about your lunch. Amazing how our perspectives change when our heads drop a few feet.

KBO indeed Tom!
The world does surely look different from down here. Better I think, in general.
 
Damn Roderick, you once again hit the nail on the head! I often struggled with those selfsame feelings of superiority. I always knew deep down that "there but for the grace of God go I" but still, those feelings were there, I'm ashamed to admit. I think Liz felt them too, and after she got sick I think she felt like she had become somewhat less in my eyes. She never did, but our relationship changed significantly. Only now, looking back, do I begin to see what happened. So much went unsaid between us. We wasted what could have been some wonderful times. I applaud your initiative to engage with Chris. We are all, indeed, disabled to one extent or another. That should never be an excuse to avoid coming together and making friendships.

Dick

Dick,
May I ask you more about out how your relationship changed? You speak so warmly and deeply about your wife. Send me a PM if you like; I'd love to ask your views.
R.
 
I will follow this up Roderick, later, when I have more time.
 
Roderick, It is so fitting that I, while on vacation visiting my family, decided to get online and read some posts. I am the older sister, the one who has always taken care of the two younger sisters. Now for the last three days my sister and I have been going back and forth about me having to someday be taken care of and how I did not want that. Putting myself above her. Like my taking care of her was ok but her having to take care of me was not acceptable. I have had to face who and where I am at this time in my life.
And there you are spouting out words of wisdom. I almost had to chuckle at the fate of reading it.
I don't know how long or how far I will be willing to go with this disease but I know now that I will put a lot more thought into it.
Thanks, Nancy S
 
Roderick, It is so fitting that I, while on vacation visiting my family, decided to get online and read some posts. I am the older sister, the one who has always taken care of the two younger sisters. Now for the last three days my sister and I have been going back and forth about me having to someday be taken care of and how I did not want that. Putting myself above her. Like my taking care of her was ok but her having to take care of me was not acceptable. I have had to face who and where I am at this time in my life.
And there you are spouting out words of wisdom. I almost had to chuckle at the fate of reading it.
I don't know how long or how far I will be willing to go with this disease but I know now that I will put a lot more thought into it.
Thanks, Nancy S

I'm glad you went online too Nancy! Hope your vacation is memorable and inspiring. It's an honour being on the road with you.
R.
 
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