This year marked the 20th anniversary of me becoming a quadriplegic.
And among the past two decades, I’ve learned plenty of important lessons. But none more important than the need to have a quality sense of humor.
Sure, there aren’t many things to laugh about when you’ve spent eight months in the hospital and haven’t taken a step in over 8,000 days, but if you look hard enough, you might be able to crack a smile every now and then.
In that spirit, I thought I would share the 10 best things about being a quadriplegic.
I get the best parking spots.
With a handicap license plate, I get a prime spot to park my van everywhere I go.
No need to take a seat.
Whenever I have a meeting, I never have to scramble for a chair. For me it’s always “BYOC,” bring your own chair.
Wear and tear free.
Since I don’t walk, my shoes stay in pristine condition. Which is great (or horrible) for my burgeoning sneaker fetish.
Look ma, no hands.
Dieting has never been easier. If I want to go on a diet, all I need to do is just tell everyone not to feed me junk food. I can’t cheat if I can’t put it in my mouth.
At many events, there’s often accessible entries or early access. Which means no need to wait in those long lines. If you got it, might as well take advantage of it.
I don’t have to speak to anyone I don’t want to.
Most of the time, people assume I can’t speak or just ignore me all together.
No need to worry about street vendors.
Since they think I am not cognitive, they just ignore me. That’s fine, I didn’t want a two year subscription to “People Magazine” anyway.
There’s no pressure to hit the gym.
Any muscles I had waved bye-bye long ago. Besides, the only six pack I’m interested in is full of caffeine and corn syrup.
Who needs a coat hanger?
I’m always a hit for those who need to take a quick trip to the mall. Don’t worry about lugging around your bags, just stick them on my armrests and viola! Hands-free shopping.
It’s okay, he’s disabled.
If I run into anybody, they generally just shrug it off. Of course it was because they weren’t watching where they were going, not because I’m a horrible driver.
So you see, disability isn’t always doom and gloom.
If life gives you lemons, just run them over, because you can’t pick them up anyways.