I awoke at 4:30 a.m., determined to make it to work. The day before, it had taken me nearly three hours to get ready, and I was resolved to reduce the time by two hours. Ordinarily, 45 minutes was enough time.

I inched myself to the side of the bed and slid down to the floor. I thought I could will my body to do what I wanted. Perspiration formed on my brow. I can do this. I will make it. Don't give in. But my body refused. After two hours I was still not ready. Another half hour elapsed before I was attired for work.

At last, I stood up and headed toward the garage. I made it as far as the kitchen and then dropped to the floor, grimacing with the pain that overwhelmed me. Disappointed in myself, I crawled back to my bedroom, eased into bed and lay there. I called my boss to say I wasn’t going to be able to make it into the office.

Just days before, at the 30th anniversary celebration of the Fresno Center for Independent Living, I had accepted an award on behalf of the Department of Rehabilitation in recognition of our work promoting independence for people with disabilities. I have personally worked with individuals to overcome barriers for 33 years, the last 25 of those working specifically with people with disabilities. But when I acquired an impairment myself, the meaning, significance and reality of disability changed profoundly for me and became very personal.

The Fresno CIL celebration included a silent auction, with items such as a walker and a wheelchair. I had no idea that within days I would need to use them. I was 56 years old and, aside from the heart attack and bypass surgery I had the year before, I had not experienced major illness or injury. Then suddenly I was not able to walk. It was very frightening. Anxiety gripped my mind and soul. What will I do if this does not improve? Will I be able to work? How will I take care of myself?  I also felt guilt, anger, and shame for not being able to function without experiencing relentless pain.

The medical analysis indicated I had a slipped vertebra with significant arthritis. In other words, a “bad back” with a heck of a lot of pain. For several months, I had been using strong medications to control the pain. A series of three epidural injections were supposed to get me back on my feet, but only provided enough relief to allow me to sit for periods of time. Another doctor reviewed my condition and decided that only surgery would allow me to walk again.

Still, I feared the surgery might not work and dreaded the thought of continuing pain. Without being able to stand or walk I didn’t know how to take care of myself. I had to ask for help and I felt like I was becoming a “pain in the butt” to all those who know me. Asking for help is difficult, and losing the sense of independence is a devastating psychological blow.

I resolved to make the best of whatever was in store for me. I tried to remain optimistic and even made an alternate plan which included obtaining a more modern walker and a wheelchair. I was determined to maintain the same quality of life and to work no matter what.

Who plans for disability?  I would guess that most of us plan for everything except that. I know that I had not been ready mentally or practically for living with a mobility impairment. And despite years of experience working with disability, I realized that you never really know what the world looks like from the floor until you see it from that angle.

I realized how much our quality of life is defined by our ability to make decisions and to do things for ourselves. So often, we take for granted our ability to perform mundane daily activities. They seem trivial until you don’t have control over them, and then suddenly what seemed unimportant becomes tantamount.

As a result of my health issues I have a better understanding of why self-determination is a cornerstone of the disability rights movement. It is a basic human desire for all people, disabled or not. I have experienced the importance of technology, and how it can transform people’s lives. I can see now why people are frustrated with service providers who treat them as a number on a caseload, not an individual. And I am very cognizant that any day anyone may wake up and find that his or her life has changed due to changing health status or an acquired impairment.

printer friendly format