For as long as can I remember, my grandpa held a cane, walked with crutches, or sat in a wheelchair. No, he wasn't born with a disorder. He wasn't degenerating from old age or a disease. He was in a car accident. And accidents are called accidents because they're unexpected and unintentional; no one asks to be wheelchair-ridden. The details of the accident I never really knew- I either didn't exist when it happened or was too young. I was always curious about what exactly happened, but I never really got around to asking anyone about it. Didn't really seem like something I should ask.
Yeah, I guess my grandpa was crippled. It was hard for him to go anywhere, much less travel with family. It didn't help that his apartment was on the third floor either, with no elevator. Every time we went somewhere, someone had to carry down the wheelchair, and someone else had to help him down each step of every set of stairs. All the pieces were in place for him to lose his identity and accept that he can't move freely anymore.
But no, he still took us to the mall. He took us to his favorite restaurants. He came to birthday parties. He even visited my family in America sometimes. He went to the top of the Empire State Building, and saw the city from above. He bought me the toys I always begged for. With good intentions, he yelled at me when I was being disrespectful. He told me stories of my dad when he was a kid. All while not being able to walk. Disability didn't exactly "disable" my grandpa. To him, it was simply another obstacle in life.
This isn't supposed to be a sob story, and I'm not here to obtain your sympathy. I'm just here to reinforce Nancy Mairs's point. Some people are born with disabilities, and some people acquire them over their lives. And yeah, you're right. Becoming handicapped because of an accident is different from, let's say, an autoimmune disease. Some neurodegenerative diseases cause people to literally forget their who they are. None of it is in our control. But my point is just that- disability is, for the most part, not in our control. We can't control whether or not a certain gene mutates during development. We can't control a stray vehicle crashing into us. Disability is, as Mairs says, "the only minority you can join involuntarily, without warning, at any time." It was just an ordinary day for my grandpa, on the road, driving. Laying on a stretcher and being taken to the hospital in an ambulance probably wasn't on his mind. Waking up in the hospital unable to move his legs wasn't on his agenda. But it happened. And all we can do from that point on is deal with it. Disability has the chance to crash into all of us, whether it's gonna be a car or a disease. But, "if you are accustomed to seeing disability as a normal characteristic, one that complicates but does not ruin human existence," then maybe- just maybe- you'll be ready for it.
My grandpa died of cancer when I was around 8 years old. Every memory of him that I have also included a cane, a set of crutches, or a wheelchair. But that didn't make him any less of a grandfather. He was caring, he had a big heart. He had a way with people that made all of us family members and relatives admire him. He always spoke during family gatherings. And I remember his voice. The voice of a man who had been through a lot. The voice of a man who loved his family. The voice of a man who didn't let disability disable him. The voice of a man who was able. The voice of my grandfather.
