Back in 1997 I popped my knee really badly in April and had to use crutches for quite some time: first till I got in a surgery that summer and then finally to heal.
It was horrible having to ask help for anything and everything when both my hands were occupied by the crutches. In school I felt such a burden to my friend — just getting to class was a challenge. (And boy, the confirmation camp that summer was such a hoot.)
At a time when I’d got rid of one crutch I went to McDonald’s with my friend. I was left at the counter to carry the tray to our table. Yes, the one-armed me. The tray was quite heavy — with two drinks, two burgers and two sets of fries — and pretty soon after I’d started walking to the table, I dropped it.
I was sooo embarrassed. My friend had to go ask for refills for the drinks and someone had to come and wipe the Cokes off the floor. And I had to sit there and eat that meal.
Just now, after all these years of still being embarrassed, as something made me think about the crutches again (not that I haven’t thought about them before…) I surprised myself by realising something: why should I be embarrassed about what happened? No one offered to help me (a 15-year-old girl). Not my friend, not the person at the counter, no one. They should’ve been embarrassed.