Living With a Physical Disability

If you were standing next to me in line at the grocery store, you probably would never guess that I am certified as being 80% disabled by my physicans and surgeon. Should you see me walking down the street, heading for the post office, or sitting in my car, the thought would never cross your mind. But I am, and through the miracle of medications and sheer force of will, I try to move on with my life as though nothing had ever happened. 

But it did, and one can ever turn back the hands of time. Six years ago, I was involved in a boating accident from which I sustained a burst lumbar fracture. The surgery required a T-10 to T-12 bone graft, fusion and the implantation of a Pyramesh cage and wires to hold what was left of my ribs together. I am a walking mass of metal and titanium. Getting through airport security can either be relatively painless or a massive undertaking, depending upon the airport and its level of security. I set off the security alarm while visiting the United Nations Building two years ago with my youngest daughter. Luckily, I carry a doctor's note that states what my injuries are and what was done to me in the way of titanium implants as a result. While the United Nations security men pored over the card, I was actually desperate enough that I lifed the side of my cotton tee shirt to show them the beginning of the 22" long scar that I will carry for life, proof, at least to me, that I am not a dangerous criminal but merely a woman who suffered a terrible injury. Once the guards caught sight of the base of the scar, I was quickly dismissed, my card returned, my daughter mortified beyond words, and we were on our way - such as it was.