By Jessica Patton, Lead Employment Consultant, Best Buddies California Jobs Program
Last month, I fractured the fifth metatarsal of my left foot. Actually, my doctor says I shattered it into about a half dozen pieces. My mom always said that if I do something, I make sure that I do it right. With very little time to digest the predicament, I found myself in a cast, prohibited from putting any weight on my foot for at least eight weeks and was told that not only was it likely that I would need surgery, but that I would need to stay off of that foot for another several weeks or even months after the surgery! I went into a panic. A broken foot and crutches would normally not cause a crisis in a person’s life. Using crutches is merely a nuisance for most. But I am a job coach for Best Buddies Jobs. I follow around Kevin as he sweeps up in a busy warehouse at GUESS?, Inc. in downtown Los Angeles. I coach Thomas and Alex at Sprouts Farmers Market in Culver City as they return “go-backs” to the shelves at the market and collect carts in the parking lot. And I observe Jon as he goes on “runs” at Access Hollywood in Burbank, delivering tapes of commercials and stocking supplies in the production office. I climb stairs, scale hills and walk blocks in one day, from one job site to the other. I am in and out of the car, driving all over the city to different job sites and need to be efficient with my time. In my panic, I wondered how in the world I was going to do my job if I couldn’t walk.
Everyone at Best Buddies California has been amazing as I figure out how to do my job with this new temporary disability. Rachel Spooner, BBCA Jobs Program Supervisor, and Patricia Evans, BBCA State Director, helped me brainstorm how I could support my participants while taking care of myself. I could spend more time making telephone calls checking-in with my participants and sending emails to their supervisors to see how our buddies are doing in meeting their goals. I could do more work from the office and even work from home if the pain got to be too much.
My doctor also helped me problem-solve this situation. She gave me the form to take to the Department of Motor Vehicles stating that I needed a temporary disabled parking placard. She also wrote me a prescription for a knee walker, which fortunately my insurance covered. An alternative to crutches, it enables me to get around easily and independently, while I continue to coach my participants on their jobs. Using my knee walker (or my wheeler, as I call it) means I have to avoid stairs. If I can’t use a ramp or the elevator, I can’t get in. If the sidewalks are broken (or don’t exist), if there aren’t any disabled parking spaces available, or if the curbs are too high for me to jump, I am seriously limited in my ability to get around.
I have needed some of the accommodations that Rachel and Patty suggested, but I’m fortunate that I have been able to, for the most part, continue supporting my participants. With the help of my wheeler, I can still help Thomas figure out where to put back the gluten-free cereal at Sprouts. I can follow Kevin around as he sweeps up in the warehouse at GUESS?. I can even go with Jon as he delivers the tapes downstairs at Access Hollywood. It’s just not as easy as it used to be.
Even after 21 years of the Americans with Disabilities Act, there are still too many barriers for people with disabilities. My temporary disability has given me a new point of view to some of the challenges that people with disabilities face every single day as they try to get around the city and live their lives independently. The other day, I decided to go grab coffee with a friend at a coffee shop just around the corner from his house. Normally, I would have made this short walk with no problem. I would have enjoyed the exercise and the beautiful day. But my wheeler made this day very different. When I reached the busy intersection in Hollywood, I paused to survey the situation. Cars in this intersection often rush pedestrians as they try to get to the 101 Freeway ramp, inching into the crosswalk and turning just as soon as they can squeeze by the pedestrian. This always annoyed me, but I never felt scared or unsafe. Yet on that day, I was genuinely worried. I have to be extremely careful because my wheeler can tip over on bumps or cracks in the pavement. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on crossing the street, watch out for aggressive LA drivers, and keep myself upright all at the same time. I did manage to cross the street without any mishaps, but my biggest problem came as I got to the end of the crosswalk – there was no ramp to get up over the curb. I had to lift my wheeler (which weighs over twenty pounds) while balancing on one foot, then hop up over the curb to the safety of the sidewalk. All this while a string of cars, attempting to turn right on red, were inching towards me. I had to cross the road again to get to my destination and faced the same challenge. Of the four corners of that intersection, only one had a ramp to get past the curb. If I were in a wheelchair, I would have been stranded on the street, unable to get up onto the sidewalk. I crossed that intersection a hundred times before my injury and never gave the ramps (or lack thereof) a thought until that day. It was an eye-opening experience, not to mention scary.
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| Jessica P. on a ramp |
I could give you dozens of examples of the barriers that I face as I go about my day. Able-bodied women who use the disabled stall in the restroom because they like the extra space but don’t think about the people who use wheelchairs or other medical equipment that need the extra space. Parking lots with only one disabled spot that’s taken by a vehicle without a disabled placard. Buildings with one or two steps to get into the door and no ramp in sight. Movie theaters that reserve the worst seats in the house for patrons with disabilities. Who wants to sit in the front row of an IMAX movie anyway? It was even a challenge for me to get into the Best Buddies California office. Before I broke my foot, I always went up the stairs to our second floor office. When I started using my wheeler, I had to wheel around the entire building to find the elevator (there’s just one that goes to our floor). I just hope the elevator isn’t out of order when I really need it.
In some ways, breaking my foot and using my wheeler has been a valuable experience for me. The old adage says you can't really know a person until you walk a mile in their shoes. I know this to be true. Maybe using a wheelchair or other mobility assistive device for a day should be required training for all job coaches. Not all of my participants have physical disabilities but some of them do and it changes how they can do their jobs. I am an even better job coach because I see the obstacle course that is their life in this busy (and not so accessible) city and it is not easy. I believe that I will be even better at developing new jobs for participants who do have physical disabilities because I can see what some of their challenges may be and envision jobs that may be more suited to their unique challenges.
So when my foot is healed and I’m back to walking as usual, I’m going to keep these lessons in the back of my mind. Instead of complaining about having to park blocks away from my destination and being annoyed that I have to walk up a few flights of stairs, I’m going to remind myself that I am so fortunate to be able to walk those blocks, cross those streets, and scale those steep stairs with no fear or worry.
