Believe it or Not, I’m Handicapped

There are moments in a person’s life that strike them as unfair, unwarranted and completely pointless. Moments when someone will do something to them based on an assumption that could not be farther from the truth. Most of the time we can pass them off; sort of move on and forget. As a person with an undetectable handicap, I deal with people’s watchful eyes every time I need a gallon of milk. The look of suspicion on their faces is enough to make a man feel like a criminal.

Currently I’m sitting on the floor of my parent’s living room drinking a cup of coffee with a 50 foot rubber tube running from my nose down a small flight of stairs into the basement where my oxygen machine is located. For a nice bit of the day (especially now with the winter’s air coming in), I’m made to wear the tubing or else my lungs get stressed. I’m thankful that my tube is only needed for a few hours a day since, at my problem’s height, it was once a 24-hour ordeal.

It was during this initial period, when the only time I was off the tube is when I had to shower, that my first experience happened. It was the fall of 2008 and I was going into Comics & More at the Plymouth Meeting Mall. Since C&M was on the second level, I decided the best route into the mall would be through the Boscov’s entrance, which was the closest entrance to where I was going. So I simply pulled into the first handicapped spot I saw and slapped my tag on the rear-view and got out.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. I wasn’t even completely out of the car yet (I was trying to fit my oxygen bottle into a school bag to make my situation less obvious) when the silver car pulled up in front of my mine.

“Excuse me,” The woman’s voice said to me. I looked up, at first not knowing where it came from. “Excuse me,” she said again, this time louder.

I replied with a simple hello before returning to my tank.

“Aren’t you a little young to be there?” she asked.

“I have an oxygen tank,” I said to her. She stared at me like she didn’t know what I was talking about, so I held up the bottle.

“What’s that supposed to do?”

“I have lung disease. It’s to help me breathe.”

“Well I have my mother and these spots are for the elderly. I don’t see how you feel it’s OK to park there.”

“My doctors said I needed the handicap plaque since I’m not allowed to walk too far.”

I figured that would be the end of it, but she kept at it until I finally threw my hands up and went into the mall. Once inside, I was greeted by my fellow comic friends with a round of “Hello Vader.” Was I a jerk? Maybe, I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t care.

In the intervening years since, I’ve only come across this behavior on a few occasions, but it’s mostly been snide looks or head shakings. As I mentioned above, I’m not on my tank 24 hours a day anymore, so when you see me out on the street I look like just another guy.

This brings me to Dec. 17, 2011. It was roughly 8 a.m., and I was running a little late for work, so I pulled into the Wawa parking lot to grab a sandwich and coffee before I started. I simply pulled into the handicap spot, threw up my tag and proceeded inside. On the way in I was stopped by a man, probably mid-60s, who told me he was stationed in Vietnam and friends of his lost their limbs and people like me make him sick. He then went on to call me an abuser, someone who wasn’t worthy of having a handicap placard. I said I have a lung disorder and spend half my day on oxygen.

Apparently that wasn’t good enough for him as he raised his voice. He said I didn’t have what I said I did. I walked fine so how could I be sick. I again tried to explain myself, but every word I said he cut me off and raised his voice. I came back until the two of us were in a full-blown shouting match in the store’s parking lot. It ended when he said he was going to personally see to it that my privileges were revoked and I went inside. As I finally got inside the building, I glanced back and saw the man scribbling my plates. The whole exchange lasted no more than a minute.

It is the first time I’ve ever done something like that. Ever. I’ve been mad and hollered at people (really, who hasn’t), but those times were private. They were either with roommates or relatives/friends. I’ve never done it in public. It was not a good feeling to have been brought down to that level, but it’s not something I’m ashamed of. When the man said he wanted to report me to the police and have my placard taken away, I felt like my rights were being violated and knew of only that one recourse. If you see a person getting out of a car in a handicapped spot (with proper tags) and they seem normal, don’t flip out at them because you have no idea what the hell they have going on. The spots aren’t just for the old or maimed. Not all physical handicaps are obvious.Young people are handicapped too.


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