Some people can be impressed by the smallest accomplishments.
A young man recently approached me at a beer festival to ask about how I lost my hand, which isn’t very uncommon. Strangers often ask about it, and it doesn’t bother me to share my story.
(If I was I obviously wouldn’t have started this blog.)
Usually the random conversations are people commenting about how whatever I happen to be doing at the time is impressive — typing, carrying a lot in my arms and any sort of athletic activity that involves using your hands are common examples — or telling me about how they know an amputee.
All conversations that I’m happy to have. This guy started talking about both topics — he had a veteran friend that lost several limbs, and he’s impressed that his friend and me even get out bed in the morning.
There are certain things that I’ve accomplished with one hand, like braiding my hair, that I’m proud of, but the standalone fact that I have one hand and live my life is not impressive.
Regardless, I nodded and smiled along until the guy started using words like “handicapped” to describe his friend and me, and said it must be so difficult to not be “normal.”
Those words are like daggers to me. Sure, most people have two hands, but a lot of people don’t. That doesn’t mean we don’t have normal lives with jobs, friends and family. That doesn’t mean we consider ourselves vastly different from everyone else. That doesn’t mean we’re handicapped.
Yes, I’ve joked about whether I could get a handicap sticker for my car, but I would never actually consider whether that’s even possible. I don’t need any sort of special treatment, especially for being able to park closer to a door. My legs and feet work just fine.
Even when something does involve using your hands, like typing for example, I don’t need any special equipment.
When my current editor offered me my job, he asked me if I would need anything special, and followed the question with this comment:
“It’s clear from reading your work that your accident has not hindered your journalism.”
Correct. I told him I appreciated the inquiry, but nothing would be needed.
Obviously, this random guy had no idea whether I took advantage of special treatment or not, but it still doesn’t mean he should automatically describe amputees as handicapped or not normal.
My boyfriend, who was also listening to this conversation, actually became more irritated than I did and tried to explain why saying things like that aren’t OK. The guy had also made comments about how impressed he was that my boyfriend could overlook such a thing like having one hand to be with me. It was amazing to this guy that I was able to find anyone to date.
Yes, I somehow managed to find a guy who loves me and actually usually forgets that I only have one hand. It’s shocking.
We gave the guy some advice for future interactions with amputees and went back to the tasting tents. It certainly wasn’t the highlight of the event for my boyfriend or me, but we moved on just hoping that we taught the guy something so if he sees another amputee the interaction can be a little more positive.
Lindsey Erdody 