SomeNobody said:
Changing in the bathroom is a challenge and have thought of talking to the disability resources department for access to the disabled bathroom but that is noticable.
In university, I was so deathly afraid of saying something stupid in class that I rarely said anything, and I wasn’t doing well. Then I had an appointment with a psychologist about another issue — combat-related PTSD even though no one at that recognized PTSD as a common outcome of trauma. The subject of my reticence in class came up, and I told her that
if I got up the courage to raise my hand in a class discussion, I would start trembling and could manage only a few words before shutting down out of fear that people would think what I
said was stupid and that
I was stupid. She said, and I paraphrase. “Do you really think that your classmates leave class with nothing on their minds but you and your ‘stupid’ comments?” I had to admit that people have their own lives to contend with, and pay little attention to the kazillions of other potential distractions generated by other people. In other words, what Peter P.P. said or did in class had essentially zero impact on anyone else’s life. But those people might, she said, appreciate what I had to say! After that, you couldn’t shut me up in class or out!
SomeNobody’s dilemma seems similar to the one I just outlined. He’s afraid of being stigmatized by someone who notices him going into the disabled bathroom. Of course he might be noticed by someone, maybe by several people, maybe by none. But trash spilling out of a garbage can is noticeable. So is a coffee stain on a shirt. So is someone handing out religious tracts on a downtown corner, or a busker playing. But no matter who notices SomeNody going into a disabled bathroom, his doing so has virtually zero impact on anyone except for SomeNobody.
And there’s this. Following my rather unpleasant experiences in Vietnam, and my discharge from hospital nearly a year later, I had a severe li p as the muscles in my right leg began slowly to gain strength. If people noticed my limp, and no one could have missed it, no one ever said a word. One legacy of my legacies of the Vietnam is a horrendous deep, large scar on my inner right thigh. I generally wear long pants in public, but I sometime choose shorts on hot days and occasionally go swimming. As with my limp, no one paying the slightest attention could possibly fail to notice “the guy with that awful scar. Yet only one person in the last 50 years has mentioned. That was a little girl, maybe seven years old, who dog paddled over to where I was sitting on the edge of a pool and said, “What happened to your leg, Mister?” “I was shot in Vietnam,” I said. “Oh,” she said, and then she dog paddled away.
I have never in my life been aware of an able person being public ally rude to a disabled person. In fact the opposite is the case. These days I walk with a cane and use my mobility scooter on longer shopping trips, and people either ignore mr or offer me their seat on buses or the subway, open doors for me, step aside to give room, even ask if they can reach something on a shelf for me. I’m pretty sure they don’t gossip about me with their friends and families. I’m pretty sure they’ve got things other than me and my disabilities on their minds.
I have serious doubts that you would be denied use of the disabled bathroom if you were to explain, briefly, your problem. Anyone given responsibility for providing access to that bathroom has to be well aware of people’s limitations. Disability bathrooms are made for people like SomeNobody (and possibly me, in the future, should I decide to use a toilet rather than my panties and black pants).
Finally, it occurs to me that a successful education may depend on judicious the use of … Depends? No one can learn much from any university class if they’re worried sick about leaving a wet spot on their chair and hoping they can hide a telltale wet patch on their pants.
Peter P.P.
