Learning Through a Disability

I was standing in my driveway the other morning when the bee came at me. Now, this may not seem like a particularly scary thing to you. But--trust me on this--it was a matter of no small concern to me.

The problem wasn’t so much the bee, really, as the broken leg. I broke it about a month ago at a conference in Atlanta when I took a fall down a hotel escalator. Now I’m at some kind of halfway point in the recovery process, but I still worry a lot about hurting it again.

Anyway, there I was, standing with the support of one of those four-legged hospital walkers and waiting for the Yellow Cab that has been ferrying me and my wheelchair back and forth to the office the past few weeks.

The bee came out of nowhere, flying around my face and neck, the way bees do from time to time. My fear was that if the bee stung me, or if I tried to flail at it too much, I might just topple over and re-injure my leg.

The way I saw it, I had three options: Stand motionless and try to take a bee sting without reacting. Retreat as quickly as possible inside my house. Attempt to very gently fan the bee away without upsetting the little creature in any way.

Luckily, the bee buzzed off with a couple of waves of my hand, and one of the cab drivers so helpful to me of late arrived to whisk me away from any further terrors of the morning.

I tell you all this because this sort of worry is very new to me. I’ve never had anything like a broken leg before, so only now am I experiencing on a rather small scale the kinds of difficulties that confront millions of others for entire lifetimes.

It’s not that I want to pretend that this broken-leg stuff isn’t a very big deal to me. It’s been a difficult period for me, as both a newspaper editor and a single parent. But I know that is small potatoes compared to your problems or somebody else’s problems. And the doctors assure me that it’s only a temporary disability, nothing compared to all sorts of traumas endured by others.

But any kind of trouble can be a humbling experience. In the last few weeks, mine has made me more grateful than ever before for the kindnesses that have come my way from so many people who routinely make it a practice to give a hand to others.

Trust me on this, too: There isn’t a prettier sight when you are trying to make your way along Main Street in Ventura than the wheelchair ramp at the next intersection.

Over this Thanksgiving holiday, I want to wish the tens of thousands of others in this county suffering any kind of physical problem the swiftest of recoveries and the happiest of seasons and all the blessings they can count.

There couldn’t be a better time than this Thanksgiving weekend for me to add my own thanks to everybody who has helped me in the last few weeks. And to thank all those who have devoted lifetimes to fighting for things like wheelchair ramps and access for the disabled.

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While counting my own blessings, I have to admit I can’t stop myself from actually trying to capitalize a bit on my broken leg.

It turns out there is a fracture in the shape of two large V’s on my right thigh just above the knee. I’ve decided that stands for “Viva Ventura!” And it makes me the only editor I know in these parts who has the X-rays to back up the claim that his feelings for this county run bone deep.

Happy holidays to all of you. Be sure to get a good grip on the handrails next time you’re riding down an escalator. And watch out for the bees.