Captain Sensative

Last night I went to a restaurant with a bunch of family members for a birthday celebration. We went to a Tex-Mex place nearby. We all had a good time and stayed a couple of hours as we talked with each other and played a gift-giving game (yes, the birthday was for an adult, but it’s a tradition in the family and we have fun with it). I had a nice time and the fajitas were gooood. All in all it was a nice time for everyone and the service was great as they handled a party of 17 people who felt like having fun.

We sat on a second story balcony with a nice view, but it required a fairly long flight of steps to get up there. I have been practicing steps more than usual lately because I have a more difficult time with the steps at our church. The individual steps there are a bit “taller” than the ones on most staircases so it requires more effort for me to pull up with my bad leg. Consequently, I have grown accustomed to using my good leg to climb so that I go up unevenly by using only one leg to pull up. It makes me feel like a pirate with a peg leg. Over the years my bad leg hasn’t had the strength to pull my body weight up those steps without a great deal of pain and stress, to the point that it has felt as though I might tumble with the effort. I have grown tired of climbing the steps at the church with just one leg, so I’ve been working at it when no one else is there and I have consequently been able to use both legs normally when climbing steps during the past few worship services. How about a shout-out for me out there?

The steps in this restaurant weren’t nearly as tall as the ones at church and I had no problem going up normally by using both legs to lift. However, as I began the ascent one of my relatives turned around and jokingly asked me if she should get her son to lift me in his arms and carry me up the flight of steps. It was a quick and simple joke with no malice intended, but it stung a bit. I hate to sound as though I’m a sensitive and delicate little flower, but comments like that are really insulting and hurtful to someone who has spent the past four years attempting to overcome a great deal of damage done to his body through a motorcycle accident that he can’t even remember. I only responded with a half-hearted smile, but I felt like challenging her to a race up those stairs. It’s hard to express how hurtful it is to be treated as though I’m crippled in some horrific way because in truth I’m not. People’s false perceptions are something that I can’t change, but it would be great if they would keep those things from being expressed. At least have the decency to joke about me behind my back, you know? Less hurtful that way.