An illness of the soul is worse than an illness of the body
— Author Unknown
“No one is immune from illness in life. Do not laugh at disabled people, because you could just as easily be one of them.”
— Vladlena
Disabled / Invalid: Lat. Invalidus - in - “not” + validus - “strong man”
Have you ever seen a disabled missing a leg or an arm on the street? At that moment, I think you probably felt embarrassed and tried to quickly pass by them. When a disabled person asks for money, sometimes passers-by would throw some change into his hat. And they’d quickly forget about this episode. Life passes by very quickly—we have enough worries and urgent matters.
But suddenly, a medical accident happens to you—you have an accident or accidentally fall; as a result, you break a bone, or even worse—fracture in the neck or spine.
I recall that in our apartment complex in Ukraine, there lived two disabled people without legs. The eldest returned to their relatives after the war, he got around using a low wheelbarrow on four wheels. The man would often play dominoes with his neighbors; he was friendly and polite, and was not an alcoholic. His family members took care of him, helping him climb up the stairs to his apartment.
The second disabled person lived in the next building over. We knew his neighbor, who was suffering from sharing a communal apartment with such a young alcoholic. Friends from all over the area would constantly come to visit him, drinking a lot of alcohol, making noise, and behaving arrogantly. She had a husband and a small child who could never catch a break from all of the commotion. This man lost not only his legs, but also his humanity. This went on until the disabled person died. Until that moment, we had never seen how much debris and dirt could fit in one room. A dump truck parked near the apartment’s balcony, and furniture and other things—all decomposing—were being dumped in. A terrible and unpleasant sight!
My uncle Misha also returned from the war as a disable person without one leg. My aunt and her children did everything so that he could live a normal life, and surrounded him with attention and care. He was sociable and friendly, and had adopted my aunt’s children and brought them up as his own, because their father had died a valiant death. I remember that Uncle Misha and his wife once drove, in a special car for disabled people, 700 kilometers for my wedding—from Kiev to Kharkov. He’s left me with very good memories.
Why did I decide to write about such injured people? Many a time hath trouble or misfortune befallen me. Recently, I fell in a parking lot and broke a bone in my right hand. I’ve been suffering for almost seven months—I’m almost constantly in pain, and it’s very difficult to sleep at night. And I begin to complain at my life—of course, I feel sorry for myself. I have to limit my usual movements—it hurts especially after physiotherapy, I even start crying sometimes…
And this is what I saw in at the physical therapist’s office. People from different backgrounds come here—and they have worse health problems than mine. They’re there for various reasons; some, because of a stroke, others, a broken arm or leg, and still others, a missing body part altogether. I noticed that none of them lose their spirit; they talk with other patients, and carefully perform all the exercises. I remember my surprise in my first few years’ living in America. By the way, at the time, I had broken my left leg, and couldn’t move freely for three months. My mood was disgusting; I tried not to talk to other people—I looked awful! When I went to the emergency room, I would observe the other patients. Here, it is customary to ask others, “How are you?” The elderly people in wheelchairs would respond with a smile that they are doing well! Incredible!
This answer makes you think about yourself. You have to be a more optimistic and strong-minded person! I was doing shoulder exercises and watching patients in the gym. My attention was drawn to a young man with no left leg on his prosthesis. A handsome, cheerful guy, very friendly and determined, walked carefully around the hall, climbed the stairs while not holding onto the railing and carried a heavy bucket in both hands—all while smiling! I felt ashamed of my complaining and my depressed state, seeing this strong-willed and hardy guy! He persists through the misfortune that has befallen him with endurance and vigor! I wish him a speedy recovery!
In America, the attitude towards people with disabilities is good. We often see how such a person can cross the road in a special electric wheelchair, because they can see the world around them and ride through the streets. Almost all the homes in our city are one- or two-level homes, and they have ADA ramps for wheelchairs. On top of this, there are special buses for disabled people and their wheelchairs. Not only that, but there are special services for these types of people; they are taken to doctors’ appointments in special vans.
My dear friends: let us not forget the hard lives of those who are sick. Let us learn from them the virtue of patience.