On Not Helping the Disabled.

There’s a woman who often comes into the coffee shop when I make my regular Wednesday visit. She’s obviously quite badly disabled because she has a stoop and walks with the aid of a wheeled walking frame. And so, since I always sit close to the entrance, I naturally open the door for her when she wants to come in and go back out.

But I’ve been thinking about disability a lot lately and it occurs to me that disabled people must experience some degree of frustration and annoyance that they can’t do everything the rest of us can do. I also wonder whether some of them might be embarrassed by their physical shortcomings, and whether such embarrassment might be exacerbated by having to rely on people doing things for them.

And that’s why I’ve become more circumspect in applying the natural tendency to want to help. If there’s something a disabled person can do, I’m sure they’d rather do it themselves than have some well meaning but insensitive onlooker barging in when the help isn’t needed. And it doesn’t take long to weigh up the situation and offer the question: ‘Do you need any help?’