I never thought of myself as disabled before, not until I learned that for the insurance company to pay for a custom-made brace so I could walk easily again, I had to be certified as disabled. Braces are generally for people with disabilities.

This was a surprise to me, as I never thought of myself in that way, and no podiatrist or doctor had used that term to describe me before all of the surgery on my foot. “Am I disabled?,” I asked one of my nurses. “Well,” she said, smiling, “who do you think $3,000 braces are made for?”

(photo above: my brace, being updated.)

She told me what other doctors have since told me, but only when I finally asked:

According to the federal government. The ADA defines an individual with a disability as a person who has a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activities, a person who has a history or record of such an impairment, or a person who is perceived by others as having such an impairment.

I was first given a brace by a podiatrist 30 years ago. It was so uncomfortable and painful that I had to stop wearing it, and my trouble walking continued to worsen. I thought it was hopeless.

Two years ago, I raised the idea of trying again, and Dr.  Daly, my surgical podiatrist, jumped at it.

According to David Messenger, many people are away from the term and don’t wish to see themselves that way. For their sake as well as mine, I need to come out.

People don’t want to be disabled and do not wish to see themselves in that way. Many are embarrassed about it.  

America has its head screwed backward when it comes to health care.

In 20 years of medical work on my foot, no one has ever mentioned the term “disabled” to me or in front of me in the context of my foot. In my mind, I never saw myself in that way.

Some people who might need good health care don’t want it or even know they need it. David Messenger of CPO (above), the maker of my brace, tells me that few people are aware of braces and the immense good that they can do.

I am one of those people. My brace, which David made, has made it comfortable and painless to walk again, ending a long struggle to have a foot I can walk on.

He urged me to spread the word. Many people are entitled to help but don’t want to ask or learn about being disabled.

Walking has always been my sport and exercise; I can’t get comfortable in gyms, with giant TVs blasting bad news and movie star kids working their muscles.

Not my world. David Messenger is eloquent about the fact that people don’t want to see themselves as disabled, so doctors are reluctant to mention it or refer to patients in that way.

The truth is I am disabled. I don’t mind.

I’m not ready to apply for special license plates; I can easily walk to stores and restaurants. But I am indeed disabled.

Lots of people are sicker than I am and need more elaborate braces and support than I need. I don’t feel embarrassed or uncomfortable in any way with this label.

But I also need to recognize the truth about me and, in so doing, support people who are also disabled and don’t even know about the braces and other technologies that can help us walk.

Life is endlessly fascinating; I always learn who and what I am. We tend to think of being “disabled” as injuries and sicknesses that are far worse than mine. But I also want to acknowledge the reality of my life and my lifelong struggle to walk quickly and often.

That is changing. I’m disabled, and it’s time to know and move ahead. We saw David have the pad in my brace updated; my heavy foot flattened the pads.

He added some padding. The brace has been successful, helping save my foot and get me walking again. I am blessed to have that opportunity. Being “disabled” is nothing to cover up, and I never feel sorry for myself or speak poorly of my life.

But I do wish to be authentic and know who I am. “Disabled” is not a term that makes me any better or worse than anyone else, and it’s nothing to braw, crow, or whine about.

It is something to admit and be open about.