A Person with a Disability

Each year Kentucky Housing Corporation has a mandatory all-staff meeting.  It's usually in the summer, and accompanied by a picnic and games like softball, volleyball, and even a golf scramble.  It's a time when upper management gives updates on budget issues and new initiatives, so it's kind of a big deal.  The first one after my stroke in October 2011, was June, 2012.  I debated with myself whether I should go, since I had never driven that far alone since my stroke.  My wife, Polly, was out of school for summer vacation and she offered to go with me, but this was something I wanted to do by myself.  I was anxious to show my co-workers, and management, that I was capable of attending and participating without any help. 

So early one warm June morning I set off, accompanied by a casserole Polly had made for me.  It's a two-hour drive from where we live to Frankfort, where KHC is located.  Pre-stroke, I had made this drive so many times I could practically nap there and back.  But this was different.  I hadn't driven this far very many times by myself since the stroke, and it was a stressful trip.  Driving at that time still required a great deal of concentration; it was no longer a mostly unconscious activity as it had been pre-stroke. 

But I made it to Frankfort with no problems, then drove to the public park where the staff meeting/picnic was held.  I started second guessing myself when I pulled into the big gravel parking lot.  In the distance I saw that the big pavilion was already mostly full of KHC employees - there are more than two hundred.  I almost pulled out and drove back, but took a deep breath and got out.  I got the casserole Polly had made for me out of the back seat and started on my way.  I walked through the loose gravel parking lot, crossed a raised sidewalk, and walked through an uneven grassy area next to the pavilion where most of the KHC staff were already seated, while holding the large casserole in front of me with both hands.  Some people in my department called out my name as I walked by, but I ignored them, because I was busy repeating to myself,  "Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall." I was terrified of the mental image that kept forcing its way into my mind of me sprawled out on my stomach, arms stretched out in front of me, the contents of the casserole scattered on the grass, with my coworkers running to help me up.  God, anything but that.  I almost stopped to rest and collect myself, but instead forced myself to keep going until I arrived at the table at the front of the pavilion that held the side items.  Thankfully, there was someone there to take the dish from me, but it took a great deal of effort to open my clenched left hand, and let go.  Next, I had to negotiate the milling crowd while dealing with many well-wishers and searching for a place to sit.  I finally found an empty spot at one of the picnic tables with people I worked with, and managed to climb in without kicking anyone or falling onto the table.  I sat there, exhausted as people on both sides tried to talk to me.  I'm sure they thought I was being unfriendly, but there wasn't anything I could do about that.  I was in survival mode, and conversation was optional.

After about 30 minutes, during which I managed to sort of carry on conversations with several people at my table, it was time to eat, which meant line up and fill up your plate buffet style.  I sat and waited as the other people at my table got up and got in line.  With that many people it was going to take at least thirty minutes, and there was no way I could stand up that long. As I sat and waited, the Director of Human Resources, a very nice young woman whom I had known for many years,  came up to me and said, "Come on Jim, you can go in front and I'll help you get your food." I politely declined her offer, but she was insistent.  "Yes, come on, we've decided that this is the way we'll do it."  Which showed me that management had discussed me beforehand.  I politely, but firmly declined all her offers of assistance.  I was not going to let anyone help me get my food while the other staff members looked on.  She finally relented, and I waited until everyone else had gotten their food and returned to their seats, then I got up and filled my plate, which wasn't easy, since the plates were flimsy Styrofoam things that had to be held at the bottom or they would collapse.  Everyone else was busy eating, though, so no one noticed my struggles. 

I stayed through the management presentations about budget and programmatic issues, then while everyone divided up to play their favorite sport, I sneaked out and drove home.  When I arrived, I was tired, but proud of myself for having pulled it off with no major embarrassments.  I told Polly, though, that this was the first time since my stroke that I had been treated like someone with a disability, and it had been a new and a troubling experience.

If I had asked KHC management to excuse me from the mandatory event because of the difficulties it presented for me, I have no doubt they would have complied.  But my focus since my stroke has been on downplaying the negative effects of it, and trying to show management and co-workers that I can function in the same living and working environment as the other staff.  Perhaps that wasn't the best strategy and I should have requested some reasonable accommodations from the beginning.  But I didn't, so now, for better or worse, I feel like I'm stuck with trying to be like everyone else when that's not quite the reality of the situation.