All of our able bodied associates may want

March 25, 2006 at 10:52 AM (Assistive Technology, Assumptions, Attitude Adjustment) (, , )

to metaphorically “cover their ears” for this one. I make no apology for it except that I am officially “out from under” a very difficult time of year for me and feeling feisty today.

Let’s talk about the Amateurs.

You know them.

The ski-jock staggering around on armpit crutches looking like some odd alien lifeform spawned by the unholy union of two toothpicks and a winter coat.

Or the *I’ll manage just fine* thank you, of a rehab worker taking sensitivity training while blindfolded, and smashing into more furniture than the latest nasty video game.

The little tiny person with an ugly knobby cast that looks bigger than they do, stuck in a revolving door….

I have *no* sympathy for them….they look silly and awkward, and they should!

My evil twisted heart looks at them and thinks “Heh. Welcome to *my* part of town people.” This is what you’re left with when you decide that making a home, office or public space accessible just costs too much money or time…

And, since their condition is temporary, they have no time to adapt, to figure out, well, I cannot carry the pizza home this way, so what about a backpack…or whatever.

When I was a kid, I’d spot a temporary gimp at school and actually *say* “Hey, look! Another stinkin’ amateur!”

They Were Not Amused.

Then there was the idea of my dormmates in college, assuming that the crutches left just outside my dormroom were *toys* with which they could lay bets, run races, and keep me immobile and nearly late for class because they were Having Too Much Fun Horsing Around With Asssistive Technology That Did Not Belong To Them.

Amateurs. Bozos.

Enjoy your stay in the land of the HandiIncapable.

6 Comments

  1. Attila The Mom said,

    LOL! Our 13-year-old nephew has been staying with us this past week over spring break.

    He says quite frequently, “That’s sooooo RETARDED!”

    My older son responds, “We don’t use words like that in our house.”

    Nephew says, “Well, I don’t mean “retarded” retarded, if you know what I mean!”

    Son says, “I don’t think YOU know what you mean.”

    It’s been an interesting week. Nephew is getting quite the education. 😉

    Enjoyed your post.

  2. Attila The Mom said,

    LOL! Our 13-year-old nephew has been staying with us this past week over spring break.

    He says quite frequently, “That’s sooooo RETARDED!”

    My older son responds, “We don’t use words like that in our house.”

    Nephew says, “Well, I don’t mean “retarded” retarded, if you know what I mean!”

    Son says, “I don’t think YOU know what you mean.”

    It’s been an interesting week. Nephew is getting quite the education. 😉

    Enjoyed your post.

  3. bridgett said,

    Yes, the pain of the broken ankle was nothing as to the pain in my armpits and sides from clumping around haplessly on crutches through a northeastern winter like a giraffe on ice. I knew I looked pathetic. I certainly felt pathetic.

  4. bridgett said,

    Yes, the pain of the broken ankle was nothing as to the pain in my armpits and sides from clumping around haplessly on crutches through a northeastern winter like a giraffe on ice. I knew I looked pathetic. I certainly felt pathetic.

  5. Ranter said,

    Oh, I so hear you! Yep!

  6. Ranter said,

    Oh, I so hear you! Yep!

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