I fear that others living with an invisible disability are going to hate me for what I’m about to say.
We likely all have heard stories or perhaps encountered people in parking lots pulling up and chastising those who park in handicapped spots because they don’t “look disabled.” How dare they – those who still can walk without using a wheelchair or some other sort of an assistive device – use one of these prime parking spots reserved for people with a bona fide disability?
I totally can relate to the anger they feel.
Now, before you get upset with me and say how dare he – a man who is living with an invisible illness, is the primary caregiver for a loving wife who has Multiple Sclerosis and is an advocate for all members of the MS community – understand what these misinformed and judgmental people are feeling?
I just ask that you stop for one moment and put yourself in my shoes each time I’m standing outside the family restroom with Jennifer at any given airport as we prepare to board our flight.
Not all illnesses are visible
Keep in mind that we have to strategically time our final restroom visit 10 minutes before the airline staff comes to take away Jennifer’s wheelchair. This way, she and her needed mobility device have plenty of time to make it on board. It is essential to push the last visit to the last possible moment because, let’s be real, once Jennifer is out of her wheelchair, it impossible for her to use the restroom again until our plane safely lands at our destination and airline crews unload her wheelchair from the cargo hold.
So, yeah, time isn’t on our side when we make that last-second restroom stop. And if we get to the family restroom and the door is locked with the “Occupied” label showing above the ADA-compliant door handle, my blood starts to boil.
“The person that comes out of this restroom better meet the requirements posted on the door saying it’s reserved for passengers with wheelchairs or other disabilities or families with children,” I angrily think every time. And the longer the bathroom is “Occupied,” the more impatient and judgmental I get.
Visible and invisible disabilities, and showing courtesy for all
Then the door opens, and it’s like an airport concourse kind of Christmas for me. Is the person coming out of the designated family restroom exactly who I was expecting, or will that person be more like the pair of dress socks that had no business being wrapped up and under my tree in the first place? Yes, sometimes it’s the person who visibly fits the description of who I think deserved to be using this space that Jennifer and I had to use quickly so we could catch our flight.
Then, there are other times that they don’t fit the bill. Like a younger-looking person who’s easily walking while pulling two smaller suitcases and sipping a cup of iced Starbucks coffee or an airport employee who likely was finishing up a break and quickly returning to a shift at Hudson News. Of all the restrooms available in this airport that you could use, you just HAD to use one of the handful reserved for passengers with wheelchairs or other disabilities or families with children.
And this. This is when I am in the unfortunately fortunate position of seeing things from both sides of the invisible illness equation. For as angry as I get at these seemingly able-body people when they’re in the restroom, I soften up as I watch them walk away.
No, Dan, you don’t know what they’re dealing with. Invisible illnesses are real. You should know, Mr. I’ve-Been-Living-with-MS-for-21-Years. They could have it worse than you, and chances are they needed this family restroom just as much as Jennifer but for different reasons. You just don’t know.
So this is what I think of when I hear the stories of people in parking lots chastising those who park in handicapped spots because they don’t “look disabled” – For as much as those of us living with invisible illnesses get upset and wish others passing judgment would understand what we’re dealing with, we need to take a page from our own book and extend to them the same amount of courtesy we’re looking for.
We have no idea what their life experiences are, either.