ARM PREJUDICE
By Heidi Johnson-Wright
All body parts are not created equal. This is often the
opinion of non-gimps, especially when they take a break from their normal lives
to observe gimps. Like when they stand on fully functioning legs waiting for
their macchiatos, then take a window seat at the ADA table to sip and watch
gimps pass by outside.
Before you know, a gimp rolls by in a chair. That gimp might
be a CEO dressed in a bespoke suit and handmade Italian leather shoes on his
way to a meeting at his blue chip company. Or she might be wearing a vintage
Comme des Garcons dress and carrying a Fendi baguette while headed to a show of
her artworks at a gallery. Or perhaps it’s just a regular Joe or Jane gimp.
Doesn’t really matter, because the non-gimp’s instant reaction is typically
something like:
“That poor gimp, confined to a wheelchair because of his/her
useless legs.”
Legs, legs, legs! Unless you’re a Rockette or an Olympic
long-jumper, why is this pair of body parts so gosh darn important? Why do
non-gimps insist that these below-the-waist appendages are the only credible,
non-pitiable way to get around in the world?
I know what you’re thinking, dear reader. I’m overly
sensitive because I use a wheelchair. I’m bitter because I’ll never get to
stand three hours in line to ride 90 seconds on a rollercoaster. I’m angry
because I’ll never get to feel the excruciating tearing away of my ACL while
playing intramural basketball.
Okay, perhaps you’re a little bit right. But only a little
bit, because my main point is this: what in the Sam Hill is wrong with arms?
Why do non-gimps never see a gimp pass by and think:
“That poor gimp, can’t wash her hair because of useless arms.”
Yes, dear reader, some of us wheelchair-using gimps also
have arms that don’t measure up to non-gimp standards. In my case, the juvenile
rheumatoid arthritis that jolted my immune system into overdrive destroyed not
only the joints in my legs, but also the joints in my arms. It’s been 40 years
since I last touched the top of my own head.
I have to do a lot of things with aids for daily living, or
ADLs for short. What’s an ADL, you ask? It’s a 50 cent piece of plastic that
you order out of a catalog, pay $50 for and use to compensate for your
gimped-up arms.
There are long-handled comb ADLs, long-handled toothbrush
ADLs, long-handled shampoo applier ADLs, make-up brush ADLs, foot scrubber
ADLs, dressing stick ADLs and of course, the ADL probably everyone has seen:
reacher stick ADLs.
I have multiple cabinets, drawers and closets in my house
filled with ADLs, because each is tailored to a specific task. I mean, forget
about trying to use a spoon with an extended handle to put on your socks.
There are even some things that no ADL can compensate for.
For instance, I could spend the gross national product of Guam on ADLs and
still never be able to use a Q-tip for the task that the Q-tip company tells
you – nudge, nudge; wink, wink – to never use it for.
So the next time you see me motoring by in my chair, don’t
assume that non-functioning legs have put me in a wheeled, mechanical prison of
despair.
Instead, assume that my closets are filled to bursting with
50 cent pieces of plastic.
http://earthboundtomboy.blogspot.com/2015/04/leg-envy-arm-prejudice.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+EarthboundTomboy+%28EarthBound+TomBoy%29
