Suddenly, for no apparent reason and against all odds, my foot decided it was pulling out, seceding as it were, from the body politic.

It comes as a shock. An evil unto itself like Iago. Unfounded. Purposeless. And therefor all the more devastating. What is one to do? Declare war? Conciliate? Accommodate?

In the meantime life goes on, and one is flagged as a cripple. People now look at you differently; you simply can’t keep up, and the implications soak the very ground upon which you drag your protesting extremity.

Life is not over, but life HAS changed, and I am not convinced it has changed for the better, nor that I am entitled to some kind of deference just because I can’t keep up. I am broken and it doesn’t really matter why or how.

It is a rather cold slap in the face when you realize you are beholden, when whatever curtains have shrouded this face from you are parted and the depth of the illusion sinks in. My liberty is just another hackneyed vaudeville joke, and I am just another horse waiting for just another knacker.

One comment on “Crippled

  1. gina says:

    I was crippled when i was 19, and did a lot of pretty unlikely stuff, considering… but I had to plan better for it, and accept that I would do it more slowly, and that this meant that I would be doing a great deal of it alone, because people would not be pleased to participate at my pace… Now i am in my 50’s. I find that the extra effort to remain fit and strong that was required to ‘have a real life, even at that slower pace, has left me in better shape and better health than my peers… and that i have learned to validate *myself* and enjoy my own company.
    Seriously, every difference from the absolute norm has its costs AND its compensations. It is true that you will never again have to shovel your own roof… but you will never again be asked to help shovel other people’s either 😉

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