Social Isolation - Excerpt From Wrestling With The Goddess

While there are tons of activities and opportunities for disabled people, my multiple disabilities prevent me from participating in most.

I do not go out with my friends regularly. What they do in an hour would take me much longer. There was little time for fun during my school years. Yes, I was invited out, but I went only when I did not have assignments with deadlines. Sadly, that was not often. In high school, I made some really genuine friends. Even though I have finished college, those high school friends are still there for me. They understand my shortcomings. They have not forgotten me. They never ignore me or make me feel different. I am not as bright as they are, but they always include me in their group. They ask! They give me the option to say no. And they don’t assume that I will not participate.

When I began high school, children ignored me. It happened during public school also, but I was younger and it did not bother me as much. As I grew older, I became more aware of it. Each time I felt alone. For a normal teenager, high school can be traumatic. Can you imagine what it was like for me? Well, the isolation became worse. Eventually, one of my teachers called my mom and said, “We seem to be having a social problem with Azeem.” My mom was caught by surprise because she knew I was pretty sociable, especially when I am treated with respect and dignity.

“A social problem?” my mom questioned in disbelief. “That’s very strange.”

Mrs. Carson, my special needs teacher, went on to explain it was isolation by other students, which she suspected was due to a lack of knowledge. “What should we do?” she asked.

“I would suggest you talk to the students and explain the medical condition. If you are not comfortable doing it, I would be more than happy to speak to them,” my mom replied.

A date was agreed upon and my mom, being a teacher herself, delivered a very effective and simple presentation. She educated the children about the trache. She informed them it was the only thing keeping me alive. The children gasped when they heard that. They never realized my problems started at birth and that my brain was damaged to the point where I could not breathe.

“This equipment here,” my mom said, referring to the suction kit, “is used to extract mucus from Azeem’s lungs. It may look like a blue box to you, but it is one of his lifelines. He has to take it with him wherever he goes. When children make fun of him, he avoids using the suction kit and has difficulty breathing. Would you prefer if he stops breathing?” she asked the class.

They all shook their heads no, too stunned to answer.

“Azeem does not want your sympathy. He wants your friendship. He wants to be accepted for who he is. I want all of you to realize that any one of you can be hit by a car today and become disabled. Would you like to be ignored and isolated? It is always better to be kind and lend a helping hand. Remember, Azeem is a person. He has feelings. He is a teenager, just like you. He likes to hang out and shoot the breeze the same way you do. If you try talking to him, you will find that he enjoys goofing around and has a great sense of humour. All he wants is to be treated with respect.”

My mom told me she would always remember a comment one student made during the question-and-answer period. “Mrs. Kayum, you have taught me a lot today. I was one who felt Azeem could not mix. I am happy you came in.” That, my mom said, made it all worthwhile.

Being a teenager, I was self-conscious and chose not to go to class that morning. Based on the reaction of the students, I knew some of them felt guilty for ignoring me. Some became very good friends and always looked out for me afterwards. A little education goes a long way.

(Excerpted from Wrestling with the Goddess and reprinted with permission from the author, Azeem Kayum).

(Originally published at GoArticles and reprinted with permission from the author, Azeem Kayum).