So much has changed physically. Sitting in a wheelchair has transformed me from the tallest person in the room to the shortest. Yet emotionally, I don’t feel any less tall. I am learning to be more resilient, roll with the punches and actually grow (not physically :-))
Yes, I can’t walk properly. I rely on a chair. I’ve been officially rated 93% disabled by the Israeli National Insurance Institute (and no, congratulations on that score are not welcome). I fell three times yesterday. My vision is impaired. My knees ache intensely after just a few minutes in the car. But despite all that, I feel emotionally stronger than I’ve ever been.
I’m grateful that, to date, my mental cognition hasn’t been impaired anywhere near the extent of my physical side, and I pray it continues. Disability is hard. Navigating sidewalks and pavements, using disabled toilets, getting around, they’re all difficult and often expensive. But I don’t believe disability has to define you.
I used to think disability would bring pity, silence my voice, strip away my ability to contribute, and turn me into a taker rather than a giver. Maybe that’s still ahead. But right now, I don’t feel that way at all.
People still seek my advice, perhaps even more than before. My kids still laugh with me, not at me. I’m still just as annoying to my wife (which I take as a good sign). I hope to lead prayers for the Jewish New Year. And I feel my life is rich with meaning, especially as I shift my focus from work to more spiritual pursuits.
Don’t get me wrong, this is not the path I would have chosen for myself or for those I love. I would much rather work on my character without the shadow of a diagnosis like PSP. But I stand (or sit) by what I said.
Why? Not out of arrogance or self-importance. I believe I still have something to contribute. I believe I still have value. And I think that belief radiates outward. I see this journey as one with purpose, chosen by G-d, and I accept it. I deal with it. I find deep satisfaction in knowing that the most important things in my life are not my physical health, but how my children grow, how my wife feels, and how the world heals, or doesn’t.
This isn’t about me. But within my own skin, I feel taller than ever.
I can’t speak for anyone else, everyone walks a different path. But we all face challenges. Digging deep and confronting them is part of being a parent, a spouse, a friend, a child, and a fellow citizen.
Maybe I’m being premature in dismissing pity or the loss of dignity – and maybe it is to come. Maybe that’s something I need to work on. But as the famous Liverpool saying goes: We walk on. Or ride on in my case.