Speaking from experience, I can tell you that a physical disability can be a pain or a chore, but the devices available to help disabled people get around can have surprising benefits.
I'm a person with multiple sclerosis (MS). Neurologists have no idea what causes MS, but they're paid well because they know what they don't know better than anyone else.
MS involves the deterioration and scarring of myelin, the coating of nerves in the brain. Without this coating, exposure causes nerves to misfire, sleep, stay permanently awake, go nuts or go AWOL. Or all of the above. Though the intensity, timing and progression of the symptoms vary for everyone with the condition, MS often causes a range of mobility challenges. And, over time, there is a chance those challenges will worsen. Or not. The uncertainty is one of the things neurologists are certain of.
My MS relapses and remits, comes and goes, stands me up then trips me over. I resisted declaring my condition to the world for many years. It was nobody's business and I was living a busy life. Pride or stupidity, or both, caused me to endure fatigue and falls. Finally, I got bored with falling over and realised I needed to 'out' myself as someone with a disability.
The first symbol of my 'outing' was a walking stick. I cringed as I bought one but I soon realised that a walking stick is good for more than balance and strength. With a walking stick, you can go any place and be offered a seat when you get there. Your stick can help break the ice in the awkward chair-stealing situation. When you walk with a stick, the world looks you in the eye but remains wary. Will you tip over unexpectedly ... or use it as a weapon?
One night I was stopped on the street by an angry drunk man. 'You're too young to need a walking stick,' he shouted. 'Are you an idiot?'
I replied, 'You're picking a fight in a dark laneway with a tall man who wields a large stick. Who's the idiot?'
He backed away. Sticks have their benefits.
The next vehicle in my MS progression was a walker, a four-wheeled affair affectionately known as a Zimmer frame. This clunky contraption is like a Volvo — boxy but safe. People with walkers get instant respect from others, probably due to the apparent level of difficulty in every manoeuvre.
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