Have you ever been in a situation where you were unable to move or speak because you were so terrified? It is a horrific feeling, and one that can bring up many unpleasant emotions, even years later.
Falling for me is one of my biggest fears. Mostly because when I fall, there is a good chance I am not going to be able to get up on my own. This has become especially true as my muscular dystrophy has progressed over the years.
Several years ago, my family was visiting some family members in Colorado. We were visiting a local restaurant that had just opened to the public. When we arrived, it was overwhelmingly crowded. We walked inside, and I instantly knew that it was too crowded for my young boys. My sister-in-law graciously offered to take the boys outside once we knew we wouldn’t be there long, and my husband, his brother and I stayed inside to look around.
After a few short minutes, I knew I didn’t want to stay inside either. I told my husband that I was going to find my way outside, and I would meet him out there. He was concerned about me getting through the crowd, but I assured him I would be okay.
Crowds are my nemesis. A slight bump can send me to the ground. This was about 15 years ago, so physically I wasn’t where I am now. At that time, I wasn’t even using a cane to get around.
I carefully made my way to a side exit door. Feeling successful to have made it through the crowd, I opened the door to go outside. It swung in the opposite direction from what I was expecting. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, half in and half out of the restaurant, my body propping the door open. I frantically dialed my husband’s number, but it was so loud in there, he wasn’t hearing his phone. I called over and over before accepting my reality that he wasn’t going to rescue me.
I silently cried and tried to think of a way out of this situation. There was nothing around for me to even attempt to hoist myself up on.
First, an older couple came over to me, and bless them, they tried to help me up, but it takes a very strong person. I am kind of a limp noodle in a situation like that. They felt so bad they couldn’t help me. They set off to try and locate my husband with the description I gave them.
Shortly after they walked off, the angry restaurant manager came over and proceeded to yell at me that I was letting all the cold air out of the restaurant. He told me I needed to move out of the doorway immediately and stormed off. He assumed I had too much to drink and had fallen. I hadn’t had a drop. Too stunned to argue back, I got on my hands and knees and crawled out of the doorway just inside the restaurant. The crowd watched as I did this, some pointing and laughing. That was such a humiliating moment that still haunts me to this day.
I honestly don’t know how much time passed before I was rescued. It felt like an eternity. Many people just walked by me, stared, and kept walking. Suddenly, the crowd parted. I looked up to see a man with the kindest eyes I have ever seen. He knelt beside me, and said “I’m here to help you, you are going to be okay.” He told me he was a physical therapist, and he knew exactly how to help me off the ground.
He got me up, and I assured him I was physically okay. I hugged him and thanked him profusely, making a quick exit (this time correctly).
In my opinion, this man was heaven-sent. He didn’t even seem real. His kindness touched me forever. I often think back on that moment because it was so awful, but so beautiful at the same time. His kind gesture far overshadowed the painful reality of that entire experience.
One thing we all as humans can offer is kindness. It’s free to give. You never know the impact you will have on someone by even the smallest act of kindness.
Until next time …
Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.