Floanne, a fellow nurse, was a close friend of mine for thirty years. She was widely known for the grace and compassion she showed to those around her. Sadly, in her later life, she developed peripheral neuropathy. After a million-dollar workup at a hospital, the physician specialists declared her condition a mystery and therefore untreatable. Flo became confined to bed—unable to stand, walk, hold a book, or use eating utensils without assistance.
Dedicated physical and occupational therapists worked with her, and eventually she regained the use of her hands and could tolerate short periods in a wheelchair.
One afternoon, Flo’s daughter sprang her from the long-term care facility where she was living to attend the funeral of a family member.
Flo confided in me afterwards that she was baffled by the way people approached her in the church. Many of them leaned down, shouted at her, and spoke very slowly: “How ARE youuu?” Flo remarked, “I wanted to tell them that maybe my arms and legs don’t work right, but my mind is perfectly fine. I’m in a wheelchair. Not deaf and stupid.”
She and I then philosophized about appearances, perceptions, and people’s general lack of knowledge about those who depend on mobility devices—especially about the fact that one or two problems do not equal total disability. I realized that, before my education as a nurse, I might have misjudged some people.
We concluded that other people were just showing their ignorance—and then, thanks to Flo’s enduring sense of humor, we had a good laugh.
Marilyn Barton
Hampton, Virginia
9 thoughts on “Assumptions”
This is a concise yet insightful explanation of common misconceptions surrounding disabilities. I appreciate your use of humor in the storytelling. Excellent work, as always!
A concise reminder to us all that our assumptions most often make us wrong and even hurtful because the other person’s reality is dismissed. Thank you, Marilyn
Charlene, thanks. And the person in the wheelchair is vulnerable, so not inclined to complain.
A beautiful story. Disabilities often are greatly helped with companionship and laughter. The story shows how we can be strong.
Thanks, Martha. Laughter is the best medicine.
Thanks, Debbie.
Smart and concise. Good job, Marilyn!
Time and time again Marilyn has demonstrated how her training as a nurse and her writing abilities intersect. She has clearly expressed how assumptions about a person’s disabilities can end up bringing discomfort to someone who is still alive and well in many ways. This is a cautionary tale to all of us.
Thanks, Gene. Her experience gave me food for thought.