An open letter to the man (men) at Walgreens:

In a previous life, many years ago, I would have at the very least rolled my eyes at a seemingly able bodied person leaving their grocery cart by their car or in an empty spot without returning it to the cart corral or to the front of the store.

Today though…as I waddled/limped out of the exit of Walgreens with a cart full of bags of medical supplies and my right hand using a cane to balance my body you saw this as an opportunity for a good laugh. It was difficult enough to get the bags in the car…they hadn’t been bagged very well but I didn’t fault the clerk for that, wasn’t a really big deal since I had a large reusable shopping bag in the car I could use to take things upstairs to my apartment.

I heard you say loud enough for me to hear and your friend to hear ‘I guess some fatasses think they have an excuse not to take a cart back into the store’

Admittedly: the space between where my car was parked and back inside the store was not that far. But *far* is relative when every step you take is agony. When even standing. Just standing, holding up my body is taking every ounce of energy.

Your friend looked at me with a sort of pity. Maybe he had a mom or grandmother who was significantly immobilized. Maybe he saw firsthand at some point what suffering looks like. Because had YOU taken one moment to look at my face instead of my body you’d have seen what people at work saw today: suffering. It’s a bad day when even your boss’s boss says you look like you’re exhausted and have had too much today.

Yes, boss. Yes, I have.

Am I fat? Hell yes. But you have no idea that I’ve lost 50 pounds this year.  You have no idea how much time I’ve spent at the hospital. You have no idea what my right hip looks like. If I wasn’t so exhausted and in need of going home to change my bandage because my pants were soaked from leaking through I would have pulled out my phone and shown you some beautiful pictures of what my hip looked like yesterday morning when I snapped a picture.

And THEN I would have said “Hey jackass…tell me if you think you could walk around like this for 7 months. Live your life alone. Have to take care of yourself alone, cook your own meals, clean your own place, change your sheets, do the dishes, spend every moment obsessed about your nutrition and whether or not your next set of bloodwork will come back ok or you’ll be forced back into the hospital again.”

What would you have said then? Because I use a cane has zero to do with my fat ass. And everything to do with hip dysplasia, a seriously infected wound, and treatment and pain you can’t begin to imagine.

So before you open your mouth to judge someone next time and scowl because someone left a cart by her car instead of taking it all the way back in the store…why don’t you shut the F up? Oh and for what it’s worth…I spend a tremendous amount of money on wound care supplies and prescriptions. I’m kind to the employees, they know me by name and address me by name…I do the same to them. It’s a small infraction I already feel guilty enough about but being shamed in pubic in front of your friend doesn’t make the pain and agony of every moment of my existence any better.



About limpalongwithme

Quasi geek, social butterfly, information sponge, lover of spas and I spend my days dealing with major chronic back and hip pain. Recently diagnosed with dysplastic hips as a grown woman and I need a place to talk about it as I try to move forward.
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One Response to An open letter to the man (men) at Walgreens:

  1. steph says:

    I want to beat that fucker to a bloody pulp with that cart.

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