What if it is not visible?

In the London Underground, there is a sign that says, “Not all disabilities are visible.”

Well, mine is not visible. My cochlear implant is small and positioned behind my right ear. (There is no implant on the left side, but that’s another story.) I don’t have a cane, a crutch, or a wheelchair. Does that make me less disabled than someone else?

A person in a wheelchair may not walk, but they can hear. I can walk, but I can’t hear.

When I travel by plane, I always request assistance. First, because I have to remove the implant when passing through the metal detector (I have never understood if it’s better to leave it on or if keeping it on could damage it, so I take it off in uncertainty). Second, because when someone speaks to me (especially during the pandemic when we wore masks), I don’t understand anything, and I need someone to speak for me.

That being said, I get angry when the assistance doesn’t work… like that time in Pisa when they made me get off the plane and left me stranded there. I couldn’t understand anything… so I got angry for no reason. The same thing happened the other night in Paris… the woman left me in front of the gate and told me to wait there. The gate was wrong, so I went to the correct one myself, and I cursed in French at the guy who was there… using phrases like “merde…eh…voilà…putain” … well, very classy, I must say.

I get angry when I see people sitting in reserved seats (this used to annoy me even before I became disabled, now it drives me crazy). When they give me a dirty look, I always say, “Do you want to switch seats?” Of course, no one answers.

In my opinion, kindness comes from people. Starbucks is a great example; everyone there is super kind and courteous (they have excellent training in that regard). As for French waiters, well… you know. Actually, during my recent weekend in Paris (now that I think about it), I have to say that the first waiter at Saturday lunch caught me off guard (I wasn’t prepared with a response)… and I didn’t understand a thing. I told him I was deaf… nothing. Then there was no available seating, so we went somewhere else. But I got my revenge because we went back to that restaurant for dinner on Sunday… same waiter, much calmer this time… I was ready with a precise, slightly rude response, and the table was ready in ten minutes. I had forgotten that French waiters, usually, need to be treated a bit rudely to be nice.

Anyway, an invitation to my readers, if I have any, always keep in mind this phrase: “Not everything is visible.”