Since I've been handicapped with the pulled muscle (which happened when I was righteously exercising) I've been the recipient of many kindnesses as people watch me negotiate my way through the world on a wheeled walker. Elegant little contraption--aluminum, adjustable, and stylish now that we added the "ski" sliders on the back. It folds nicely to fit in the car.
Whenever people see me hobbling around on the walker, they hold doors for me, stand by so I can pass, and offer to hold or cary things for me. One friend even offered to clear a crowded hall for me at church, and as a large person with a commanding voice, he could have done it easily. I think he was disappointed when I declined, saying the hall would soon clear and the class wouldn't start without me. In fact, I went through the entire pre-holiday season going to church and special choir practices inching my way along because I'm so stubborn that I won't say "I can't do this." During the Christmas choir fireside performance, I was given permission to remain seated for the entire program--thoughtful choir director.
My friend Donna had a health crisis (she's in her 80s) so I loaned her that walker and now use my four-wheeled version that scoots me around much faster. It has a seat so I can sit in the kitchen and fix meals, and pockets to let me carry things I need, like a book or a bottle of hand lotion, so I don't really miss the other one.
However, I'm quite frustrated at the lack of progress as I go to physical therapy a couple of times a week, come home tired, and don't really notice much improvement. I refuse to think this is My Life from here on. In the meantime, I am sometimes moved to tears by the kindnesses and thoughtfulness of people who smile, hold the door, and say an encouraging word. Maybe being handicapped this way--temporarily, I insist--has its advantages.