If I was a kid today, I would be labeled “disabled.” But when I was growing up, those labels did not really exist unless you had mobility issues or a handicap that anyone walking past you could see. But, my disability was invisible, so I lived in the luxury of both looking and being treated as “normal” by strangers and even acquaintances. In college, despite not having this designation, my file did have a record of my heart defect. As such, Junior year when I moved off campus and suddenly needed to fight for a parking space on a campus that did not have enough for all its students, my lifelong disabled mindset kicked in. I made an appointment with the on campus health services office and pleaded my case for getting a handicap parking sticker for my car. The nurse questioned the need, after all, she pointed out, I played on the school’s varsity tennis team. I decided not to correct her and point out that I was also the team’s co-captain, but instead focused on the time of year that the team played. While our season was in the Fall, we were usually mostly done by mid October. And, in the Spring we had optional workouts in April and May, but those depended on the weather and were at the player’s discretion on whether she attended. She nodded, but protested that my heart was still able to handle aerobic activity. Again, I politely explained that my role on the team was to play doubles tennis, which was chosen with my heart's limitations in mind. She still seemed skeptical. So, I knew I would have to pull out the big, fancy words to get this part-time nurse to do what I wanted. “Well you see,” I started, "Ebtein’s Anomaly of the Tricuspid Valve is a rare condition.” And I went on to educate her on the unlikely possibility of a baby being born without a tricuspid valve. I went on to explain that the painfully small amount of information known by the medical field about my condition, made me like a walking, talking experiment. This was not completely untrue, as I had spent two decades watching cardiologists make predictions that never happened or shrug when I asked them a question and answer, “We just don’t know.” She seemed to be following along with interest and a look of pity in her eyes, which I detested but knew I needed to achieve my goal. So, I went in for the kill. “One of the things we have learned over the years,” I said leaning close as if to bring her in on the secret results of a fascinating experiment, “is that I am significantly impacted by the cold Massachusetts weather.” I paused for dramatic affect, before trying to lighten the mood, “A fact that my parents have been less than thrilled with, as it’s meant I have never been able to join in the fun of shoveling the driveway after a big snowstorm.,” and I laughed to let her know that she was not the only adult who wished my heart performed better in the cold. I left the office with the handicap sticker. A bargain had been struck. The sticker stated that it was valid only for the months October to April, leaving approximately two months out of the school year when I would be subject to parking space, hunting hell. But, overall a massive victory. And, with the way our tennis team had been playing, probably the best victory of the year.
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AuthorA former corporate online marketing and communications professional, in 2021 Long Covid redirected me. I am revisiting my passion for writing. You are the unfortunate witness to that journey. Categories
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April 2024
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