It’s a wheelchair, not a stupid stick

Since my father has been in the wheelchair, I have really noticed people talking down to him. While I know that it is, for the most part, unintentional, it happens.

For example, at the doctor’s office or at the store, people always look at me when it comes time to pay even though he is sitting there in a suit and tie with a credit card in hand. One time, he was manuevering his wheelchair in place to check out at the grocery and the clerk looked at me and tsk-tsked in a condescending tone while saying, “They are just so independent, aren’t they?” More specifically, she was implying that I “let” him feel “useful” by allowing him pay for his own groceries.

Yeah, right. I can barely pay for my own groceries much less his, thankyouverymuch.

Though he is 74, he doesn’t look especially old, but, since he has been in the wheelchair people assume he is retired even though they may be looking at information that says otherwise.

At the doctor the other day, a clerk actually said something like, “Where did you retire from again? I need to fix this because it says you are still working, and, obviously that can’t be right.”

Jeebus.

Did I mention that my father has a slight propensity to be crabby about that kind of stuff, even when he can walk? The next time that happens, the perpetrator is likely to get an answer along the lines of, “I’m not retired, I’m just tired of people like you assuming things.”

Good times, people. Good times in public, that one, when he gets annoyed.

Anyway.

But, here’s the kicker. I have a secret.

Come closer. Eeeeww, not that close. Personal space, people…

My secret is that I find myself involuntarily doing it, too.

I am learning that there is a fine line between helping someone and treating them paternalistically (is that a word? Well, it is now). Because I have 3 kids, my mind works in kind of an assembly line manner when the end of the day rolls around and we have to prepare for the next.

But, what’s happening is that I am unconsciously starting to lump my father in there with the kids. For example, I find myself checking to make sure that he brought his lunchbox home (actually a cooler), and, I have even gone as far as to say stuff like, “Be sure to clean out your lunchbox and put the freezy things back in the freezer so they’ll be ready for tomorrow.” Or, I’ll ask him things like if he had a good night while I mentally calculate how much sleep he got.

Yes, I know, I should be stopped, but, it just keeps happening whether I want it to or not. I’m working on it. But, it still doesn’t give total strangers license to verbally pat him on the head.