On Being A Cripple

On Being A Cripple

In the essay, “On Being A Cripple,” Nancy Mairs describes her thoughts and opinions regarding the illness that she lives with, Multiple Sclerosis, or MS, as she refers to it. She explains that while she wasn’t born the disease she was diagnosed in her late twenties, while she was still in graduate school. She also talks about how the disease has put limitations on her life, but it has not stopped her from having a career and family and hobbies that she enjoys. Mairs goes into depth explaining why she chooses to refer to herself as “crippled” as opposed to “handicapped,” “disabled,” and especially “differently abled.” Crippled is a word that she feels is clean and most accurate to her circumstance. Although she seems to have a very pleasant and charming tone throughout the essay, she does reveal that she has had occurrences of depression and has an underlying belief that her family and the people around her only pretend to be understanding of her illness out of obligation.  That thought alone has followed her and caused her to try and over compensate by being pleasant and always trying to help others. Mairs closes the essay by explaining that one is never fully done adjusting to life itself, and that is the approach she has taken to her disease. When she thought that she had finally adjusted to the disease she was faced with the reality that there are new curve balls thrown at her at any given time, it is not so much that she had adjusted to the disease as she is learning to live with it.

What I found most surprising is how much Mairs’ essay made me empathize with my grandmother. The essay touched me personally because like Mairs, my grandmother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis before I was born. I was very young when I found out and I never really understood the disease or that it often left many disabled requiring the use of a wheelchair, cane, or brace. Although my grandmother walked with a limp that eventually required her to use a walker—and occasionally an electric scoter, I never associated these changes to her MS; rather I attributed it to her old age (she was in her early sixties when I was informed of her disease). It did not occur to me until recently that my grandmother was disabled; I had taken a summer course that dealt heavily with literature about disability and Multiple Sclerosis was discussed. I guess I felt a bit of guilt because I never pondered what my grandmother went through as a mother and wife who was very active in ministry and traveled often with my grandfather who is a Reverend.  Whenever I am around her, she is seemingly happy and always willing to help (even though she now requires the assistance of a cane, walker, scooter, or helping hand to walk). She sends a card for every occasion, to every family member—even to my father whom she has no relation other than that he was once married to her daughter. And while I can only assume that her faith has lead her to peace and assurance, I know not of what kind of depression or loneliness she may have suffered as a result of her diagnosis.

On a more positive note, I did enjoy reading Mairs’ essay. It had a much lighter tone than a lot of literature I have previously read written by individuals living with disabilities. I especially like how she went in depth in her description of how and possibly why doctors may treat patients with MS as if they are less than human.