I am commuting today to the NIH for my monthly dose of MS medication. Look around the airport. You won’t pick me out. I am streamlined, like every serious commuter. I know which security line is actually the shorter one. I know the latest TSA regulations. I don’t flinch at the full body scanner. My boots are easily unzipped.My red Chrome messenger bag is a red herring. I haven’t straddled a bicycle in over a year. Not since I kept falling off. But I can look like I still ride a bike. I can pass, at least for the outgoing flight.
I am not the one fumbling with her shoelaces, or the one in the wheelchair. I am not the one in that golfcart-like vehicle. I am not the one boarding the tram.
I am the one strutting to the gate.
I am not the one on the people mover. I am not the one on the elevator.
Whenever possible, I am not the one on the escalator. Whenever possible, I am the one on the stairs.
I am not the one sitting in the handicapped row.
I am not the one being offered the opportunity to pre-board.
I am the one who doesn’t look up as boarding is announced, who continues writing her notes by hand. No one needs to know I am a creature with brain shrinkage. That I’ve left my computer behind in too many taxis, too many times.
No one needs to know that on the way back, I may just be the one in the wheelchair, or the one in the golf-cart like vehicle. I may just give in and take the tram. I might take the elevator. I might accept an offer to preboard.
I am one of you. Until I’m not. Then I am of one them.
I am one of all of us. We each carry baggage. We each carry pain. Sometimes it’s visible. Sometimes it’s not.
Ms Lab Rat 
Reblogged this on Journal of a reluctant runner and commented:
A reminder: We are all fragile. Our youth, health and fitness are only temporary. We cannot take them for granted. Instead, grab hold of each day, be young, be healthy, be fit. There will be time enough to indulge in old age and ill health one day. Just not today.
Thanks for the reminder that we really don’t know the stories of those around us. On my travels, I get annoyed if someone is standing on the side of the escalator that is a “passing lane” …it doesn’t even occur to me that they may have a lot of other stuff going on. Things I can’t see. I owe them not benefit of the doubt, but a stronger belief in complexity.