Usually other people, perfect strangers, are more than kind to me. Without fail, someone offers to help me as I put the wheelchair in or take it out of the car. I hardly have to wait for a fellow shopper to ask to reach the tomato paste or green onions. Little children will hold doors and ask to carry things.
But, on the rare occasion, someone will say something to me that seems so unfiltered and ridiculous, I wonder if he or she is home at night asking, "Why on earth did I say that today?". I'm not easily offended by the comments...usually I can barely restrain myself from bursting with laughter.
While driving through the most wonderful drive through ever, Starbucks, the boy who handed me my grande iced coffee, who was all of about seventeen, asked me what the hand control in my car was. More specifically he asked, "What is that thing, a motorcycle throttle?". Initially, I tried to wrap my brain around why someone would think I would have a motorcycle throttle in my car, but just moved on and very nicely told him I was paralyzed and it was a control, connected to the gas and brake pedals, to help me drive. He pensively looked at me, paused briefly, and said, "Well, I have eczema if that makes you feel any better." I responded with, "put some lotion on it," and drove away dying of laughter. The kind that doesn't stop and keeps creeping up all evening. See, everyone has problems, no matter the size.