Yesterday I was in the gym working hard on the elliptical machine. Like a Duracell battery, I was full of energy, moving my arms and legs joyously back and forth to the positive reggae music, which was piping through my ear phones.
A guy, who I have not seen for a long time, appeared in front of my machine. With a bright and friendly smile, he said:
I haven’t seen you for a while. You must be coming at a different time. Are you completely better now?
It was a question, but he spoke as though there could be nothing but an affirmative answer. He wanted to know if my limp, and all signs of my disability, that he had seen slowly improve for several years, had finally, or almost completely, disappeared. The question, which I get quite often, triggered my uptight self, and made want to say to him:
I was well the last time you saw me and I am still well. My physical disability remains, and it may or may not go away. Yet I am in as great emotional and physical health as I could ever ask for, able-bodied or not.
My cheeky self wanted to say that, but instead my more God-centred self just smiled as I nodded my head cautiously, to indicate there was some progress, and I was happy. He lingered a minute to chit chat; then off he went , jogging away as happy as a lark.
Why did I choose to respond the way I did?
The guy meant only to be friendly, and bombarding him with my hang-ups would have been a certain buzz-killer. I am the main person that needs to know and be happy with how well I am in the moment; for it is this knowing that pulls people to me and projects a vision of wellness. I am not perfectly able-bodied and I am wonderfully well!