Welcome to the Street Prophets Coffee Hour.
It feels very different hearing it from a stranger. The C-word, I mean.
I've used it jokingly to describe myself, trying to finagle my kids into doing something. (It worked. Their "poor old C-word mom" got her homemade oatmeal blueberry cookies.)
Cripple.
After several days of feeling crummy enough to complain about it but not crummy enough to make a doctor's appointment, I felt like venturing back out into the world. I had new jeans (bootcut, my favorite), a new-ish tee shirt, and a nice new bit of jewelry to wear (a silver naja pendant set with a little oval of pink shell). With my beautiful cane added, I felt downright snazzy. It had been a while since I had new things to wear. I'd forgotten what a lift it could bring to my spirits.
Feeling cute, might buy groceries later.
So off I went.
My first stop was the credit union. I like them a lot, but as with so many businesses in Cottonwood, they don't have automatic doors. I approached the entrance and just before I reached it I heard a guy behind me say, "I'll get that fer ya". I hadn't heard him come up behind me; I had to tilt my head to look up at him and say, "thank you". It's been a pleasant surprise how often people will get the door for me, or hold it open as they leave ahead of me. I always say thank you. I don't want to be the reason why they don't get the door for someone else, because I seem ungrateful or entitled or something. Maybe it's dumb but I worry about that sometimes.
I turned to go in and he gave a chuckle and said, "Well, yer a cripple gal".
Of course he got the door. I'm a cripple gal. Duh.
You know how sometimes you can actually feel the smile freeze on your face? That happened to me. I mumbled thank you again, went inside and got in line. Thankfully I didn't have to wait more than maybe two minutes. I don't know how I would have responded if he'd tried to talk to me some more. I made my transaction, got my receipt, and left. Took care of the rest of my errands. Got it all done as quickly as possible. I felt a little stunned.
...yer a cripple gal.
If only he could have said something else. I don't know, maybe something like..."you're welcome"?
On my way home I thought about how I could have responded differently. Maybe I could have stood there wide-eyed and flabbergasted, exclaiming, "What? Holy shit! Why hasn't anyone ever told me?!" I could have played dumb and said, "I don't understand. Could you please explain it to me?" I could have said nothing and just glared at him. I could have tried to tell him how hurtful and just plain dismissive it felt. I could have done a lot of things. But I didn't.
At the time, I just couldn't.
I've been dealing with this, the ITBS and chronic pain and everything that goes with that for fifteen months now. In all that time this was the first instance that I heard a stranger apply that word to me. Possibly because I just don't get out that much anymore.
There's already a lot that I don't understand about people, including myself. Now there's more. Like, why does a word that I was willing to use jokingly to describe myself, seem so terrible coming from someone else? Should it matter that he didn't seem hostile when he said it? Should I give more thought to how I could respond, the next time it happens?
Cripple.
Would it be better for me if I just decide to own that word? I've had other words flung at me in the past that I didn't mind owning. "Bitch", for example. Would that take away some of the sting of hearing it from a stranger? Just straight up, loud and proud, claim that word for my own?
"Hell yeah I'm a cripple. Cripple gal! What about it?"
Cripple gal spotted in the wilds of Old Town Cottonwood.
When I think back on all I have done over the past year, it's almost like reviewing someone else's life. Doing things I never would have chosen otherwise. The effort it cost me to get to where I could safely stop using the walker and learn to properly use a cane. Longing to sleep without pain and wake up without pain and finally admitting that I might never get to do that again. Learning all over again how to navigate the world. The progress, the setbacks, back and forth and back again, over and over. Recognizing that this is now my reality.
My life is forever changed. I spent more time than I care to admit feeling outraged and resentful about that, until I finally realized what a huge waste of time and energy that was. After that I realized that any viable path forward could only begin by accepting that what is, is. Shit's easier to deal with once you acknowledge it.
I myself am forever changed.
Damned if I'll let myself feel shamed about that.
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