When they ask…
I wonder what other’s strategy hs been when they get asked about their disability.
I encourage children who ask because I think an early education and understanding that we’re people first…can begin with them…
But parents are so often embarrased by their kids who pop out a question with no malice that they grab at them with admonitions like “Don’t bother the poor lady…”
Adults too…if they approach it with humor and curiosity I’m inclined to be informative and pleasant….
I used to ignore that group of teens or even adults who take purpose and time to say something hurtful–my parents mantra about such things, “Just ignore them, they’ll go away.”
My parents were wrong.
They want to get a rise out of you and so they say hurtful things…
These days, if they’re over 18 I slam them once, terribly with some sharp word of my own and move on…I ignore the younger onces, which only makes them angrier….
Professionals, doctors and therapists who say something stupid, I quickly explain my position on what is said, because my care depends on it…
I’ve switched doctors when it’s clear that their philosophy of care won’t meet my needs…but that’s only really happened once…
I wonder about others solutions…
Midlife And Treachery 
bridgett said,
March 19, 2007 at 6:39 PM
I think my kid’s classroom teachers have been brilliant with her friend. Her classmate is short of stature and recently has had a bunch of surgeries (I think leg lengthening — naw, wouldn’t have been my choice) that has put him in a wheelchair. The whole matter-of-fact accomodation of his chair, the kid’s aide…it has been just exactly what you’d want for your own kid. From my child’s point of view, the notable thing about the kid in the chair (other than he’s wicked fast and you really have to watch out for him in the hallway) is that he is only wants to wear the same green shirt every day. Yeah. Like, my kid doesn’t even notice the physical differences.
Disgruntled Ladye said,
March 20, 2007 at 4:59 AM
I’ll politely tell it like it is to someone I know (doctor, co-worker, neighbor, etc.).
Random strangers, I tend to ignore them. But, most people just stare.
The wheelchair assistance people at the airport though (or anyone who is supposed to provide a service to me)–they get an earful. I don’t care if you don’t want to push me to the gate because I’m “too young” or “too pretty” or whatever other “too” comment you can come up with. Just do your job and take me to my gate!
I like kids. At the pharmacy a week or so ago, a little boy looked at me then my cane and asked, “Do you like that? I think it’s really cool (referring to it being collapsible, I suppose).” I smiled and released the cane to the upright position and said, “It is pretty cool. And it helps me walk, so yes, I do like it.” The mom had a horrified look on her face, like I’d said something evil.
bint alshamsa said,
March 27, 2007 at 8:01 AM
Oh man, I’ve had problems with the wheelchair assistance folks at the airport too. I’ve tried being nice but I swear, if one of them ever treats me like I’m a piece of luggage again, I’m going to put my foot down and send them crashing over my chair. Yeah, it would probably make me fall too but hopefully they’d at least break an ankle or something and then get to see what it’s like to need help from other people.