Cherish your independence.

Today Marilyn and I made the long trek out to Acopia. We were lucky to go, because once the doctor they have for that location passes his board exams, there won’t be a reason to make the gas guzzling journey. Doctors in Peru do a year of service after their medical school. Acopia is definitely a prime candidate for the program.

Anyway, I was surprised to see patients from Oropesa there, but it’s not uncommon to switch patients to different sites. Like oropesa, acopia is nestled in the mountains, serene, and bathed in light. The difference being that Acopia has less terminal patients and more otherwise healthy patients with disabilities.

Once again, it’s painful to see young people completely shut off from their world due to the fact they cannot walk. Yes they have the hermanas, but who else? No brothers or sisters, no young people their age to befriend and fall in love with. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Losing the ability to walk is a death sentence in Peru. The best place people have for you is hospice or a nursing home. And you’re barely hitting puberty.

You know, I never did much in hospital volunteer work in undergrad. It was virtually all work with those who had disabilities. Playing, exercising, swimming, and just generally trying to squeeze best quality of life you could get from your lemons. With just a little bit of adaptation, a lot is possible. And with the right opportunities, you can get some world class athletes. But we live in a country with resources. We can make new limbs, or outfit cars to drive without the use of legs. Our handicap ramps don’t drop four to five inches into hectic streets without traffic lights.

I’m feeling pretty fortunate that I live where I do. Because one day, I’m going to need a little help myself. And while I’m in recovery, I won’t have to be completely cut off from my life and world.

I realize that I’m beating this point home and to the right ears, it’s downright sappy. Yes, I know I'm that kind of person who dreams of building a completely accessible house so it is never closed off to anyone, especially myself in my old age. Because we all get fragile. We crumble. We die. We rot into soft earth.

That is the only thing life guarantees.

So every time I see someone sick their head in the sand, pretending that people with disabilities are some separate species of the “unlucky” few, it sends me reeling. Because that’s just us with a few more years. And if you condemn the “disabled” population to isolation, you’re condemning the elderly to isolation, and if you condemn the elderly, it’s only a matter of time for you. Me. All of us.

I realize that the infrastructure of an entire city is well beyond my capabilities to change. But there’s lessons to take back home of what should never happen and what we should fiercely guard.  

Cherish your independence. When you begin to slip, don’t waste time reminiscing about what a specimen you were when you were young, FIGHT BACK. Cherish the independence of others. Their plight will be your mother’s, your father’s, and finally yours before moving onto your children. Be an advocate. Be a friend. Be something.

Because truthfully, our lives in the states are barely set up to include those with disabilities as it is. And once someone can’t keep up, Oh Boy do we have our own waiting rooms for death.

Ok. We all know my little trigger now. I’ll tuck my soap box away. Sometimes the only way to keep something from getting under your skin is to air it out completely.

But seriously, cherish your independence.