Today, I had my first Crippled in Public (…echo…echo…) moment. I should have been prepared for this, but, honestly, it never crossed my mind.
You’ve seen cripples, or people who may not be gimps, but have some sort of medical problem, get all fucked up in public before; the guy on crutches not being able to get on the bus, or the poor bastard whose shit bag leaks, or one of those autistic kids twists off in the pharmacy, and things like that.
Inside, you smiled all big to yourself because That ain’t me, and who can blame you? Me too.
Except today it was me.
Jeny wanted some Gatorade, and I wanted some grapes, so I tossed caution to the wind, took the three dogs, and ventured out the grocery store.
Since I don’t live in some third world shithole, there are plenty of grocery vendors around, and I chose one that was fairly close, and that I knew would have the craved grapes.
Leaving the hounds behind to look handicapped for me, since I was parked in a gimp space, my cane and I headed into the store, grabbed a cart, and commenced shopping. I bought grapes first, and by the time I got to the grape section, I knew I was in trouble.
My hip is always uncomfortable, running from “That doesn’t feel too bad,” to “Fuck me!” Some days pretty good, all things considered, others, not so much, you know? By the time I got to the grapes, I was already on “Fuck,” with “me” being right around the corner.
Grapes, Gatorade, crackers and cookies, and I’m outta there.
The crippled spot I was parked in is, maybe, 30 feet from the front door. I unloaded the cart and slowly gimped my way over to where they park ‘em, slid it in line, began to turn around…and got stuck in mid-motion.
My hip wouldn’t move.
It’s not that it hurts, which is does, and the pain inhibits my movement. I just can’t move it. Bone against bone spur, and I’m frozen in place. This has happened before, but never when I was going in reverse. I mean, when I put the cart back, I made a turn to my left, more of a pivot, and when my fucking hip locked up, I was facing a pillar. Up close. Three inches away. Normally, you’d never notice, because you’re just pivoting to walk away.
Mmhmm.
Imagine, if you will, that you work at a grocery store, and have just helped some old bitch out to her car with her goddamned groceries, and you notice an elderly hippy gentleman, his long, white, hair nicely pulled back in a very attractive hippyman ponytail, cane in one hand, car keys in the other, three inches away from a wide stone pillar, apparently talking to it, since I was mumbling profanities, not quite under my breath, and making no apparent attempt to move away…
Sir, are you alright?
What the fuck does it look like to you, Ace? Does it look like I’m doing aright to you?
No, sir, it doesn’t. Do you need a doctor? What can I do to help?
You don’t happen to have an extra left hip under your apron, do you?
I beg your pardon?
…at which point my hip “unlocked” or, whatever it is that happened, unhappened, and, without saying anything else, I gimped off to the car.
It seems kind of funny now, but at the time, I was pissed off, not at the guy, bless his pointed little head for trying to help, but at my fucking hip.
I was also embarrassed and humiliated, feelings with which I’m fairly unfamiliar, and even less comfortable.
Sometimes it’s harder than others to admit to yourself that you’re crippled. Today was one of those times.
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