Notes on being wheelchair bound

Oh no!
The topic of discussion right from their car ride home from my friend's mouth will undoubtedly be the sight of me in a wheel chair at the airport. Her mobile will be ringing 'off the hook' as several calls will be coming through to ask for first hand details and discuss all the possible reasons. From now until some other scintillating news hits the grape vine, waves of this new status of mine this will be the hot new topic.
I must get used to this very quickly but I am just saying this to make myself feel better.
I dole out instant emotional counselling each time I meet someone I know. I have to re assure them that I understand how seeing me makes them grapple with their own mortality and frailty way ahead of expected time. I have to assist them with expressing and processing the shock.      

That is all   

Just messing about-wearing a parcel ribbon

......and then there are those who won't even look my way at all. Those who busy themselves with trolleys and staring at spaces where they expect their luggage to be soon. They look as though they are conjuring their bags to make an early entrance so they can hurry away. The laughter they were sharing with someone  a moment ago has died in it's tracks. They inspect imaginary things suspended from the ceilings and take a sudden sharp interest in the footwear they pushed on to their own feet that morning.

All very interesting, all still new.