The Bitter End

I’m officially off crutches.  That’s nice.  Every day I get a little stronger and can sustain longer periods without needing to consult Dr. Advil or Nurse Tylenol.  That said, it was an interesting run as a temporarily disabled individual and it made me realize that some people without disabilities are jerks to those with.  OK, that’s a gross generalization, but hear me out. 

Now, I’m a dude who’s known to joke a whole lot.  Positive attitude + smiles and logic gets you what you need/want to get through a day.  I can take a joke…especially when it’s good.  As soon as I returned to the office, certain staffers consistently referred to me as “hop-along.”  Ha ha, I get it.  I’ve got crutches and they make noise when I use them, so you always know I’m coming.  And, I have to pass the same offices in order to use the only quasi-ADA-compatible (Americans with Disabilities Act) bathroom in my building.  Fine.  I get it.  Not a good joke, but, I understand why you say it.  I smile.  I used crutches from the beginning of April through to the second week of June, over 2 months.  And, every time I passed these co-workers, I got a comment: “Hop-along’s coming” or “there’s Hop-along.”  Funny…for the first or second time it was said.  After that, and for the better part of 2 months, it was downright fucking stupid.  It got to the point where I was fantasizing wrapping a crutch around the perpetrator’s neck.  I started my protest by immediately saying, in a perfectly straight/annoyed face, “that’s not my name.”  Then, I ignored them all together, even when they were using the epithet to ask me something about work. 

I’m glad to say that my new-found mobility freedom has once and for all killed the hop-along mentions.  Urge to kill has dwindled down to normal levels (no beer and no TV make Herb something something).  The comments now are more about how I’m “sneaking up” on my co-workers.  Yes, just like all other able-bodied colleagues in the office, I can now approach you without the steady report of metal on metal gnashing announcing my presence.  Here’s to hoping that joke dies and early death.

Regardless, the whole crutch thing made me hyper-aware of ADA facilities that weren’t up to par: restroom paper towels were placed too far from the sinks in my office, and the faucets are not ADA compliant; the main steps of the local high school where I teach photo classes didn’t have hand-rails and the handicapped auto-doors were disabled after hours; wet floor signs should also say “holy shit if you don’t hit this right with your crutch you are going to fall down and break your ass…again,”  especially in county buildings where I needed to go to renew my passport.  Little things like that would go a long way in making it easier for someone with a disability to get around.  The list is hardly complete, but it’s a good time to think about your sense of humor about the disabled, and what we can do (small steps) to make their day a bit more comfortable.  And, remember, I can make disparaging cracks/jokes about me, but when you do it, unprovoked, I want to punch you in the face (cue Pharrell Williams, “Happy “).