Curb Your Curiosity: What Not To Say To An Injured Stranger
It never fails. When I go out in public — clanking crutches against the pavement or rolling around in my wheelchair — someone will ask what happened to me. It’s been the teller at the bank, a stranger in a parked car, a neighbor in the elevator.
Call it small talk or curiosity killing the cat, too many people have tilted their heads and fixed their lips to ask why I hurt my leg. Most of the time I really just want to reply, “It’s none of your business,” but that would be impolite. Instead I make the conversation extra awkward by answering the question without answering the question.
Banker: Oh no! What happened to your leg?
Me: I broke it.
Banker: Oh yeah, where?
Me: The femur bone.
See, in this scenario I’m pretty sure the woman thought she wanted to hear the story of how I broke my leg. But I evaded the question, and she moved on to the business I was there for, notarizing a form. I bet the curiosity burned her up inside.
Another tactic people use is humor. They’ll suggest the most outlandish thing they can come up with as the reason for my injury.
Elevator rider: You got into a fight with your boyfriend? I hope you got some good kicks in.
Me: [nervous laughter and nod]
In these cases I often wonder, what if I really did get into some kind of domestic violence squabble? There are women in the world who get injured this way. Comments like these must be awfully triggering for them.
In rare cases, I’ll tell the truth. I have no other choice when health care professionals lack common sense and make an obnoxious comment.
Nurse (looking at my cast): Now how did you do that?!
Me: I have bone cancer, and my leg broke at the site of the tumor.
Nurse: Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.
The interactions I appreciate the most are when people don’t pry into the why but offer their assistance. For example, a woman at T.G.I. Fridays held the bathroom door open for me and told me the story of how she spent six months in a cast after breaking her leg on the ski slopes. I didn’t offer my injury story in return, but she still wished me well.
When I was first having difficulty walking, before I knew my diagnosis or used any assistive devices, a young man in football cleats saw me struggling to climb the subway stairs and offered me his arm. I’ll never forget the feeling of a perfect stranger helping me when I really needed it, just out of the kindness of his heart. The only reason he asked about my injury was out of genuine concern. At the time, I thought my knee was sprained, and he said he’d had the same injury many times. That’s the kind of small talk I don’t mind.
Have you read my recent post about the brave women in my life on Gutsy Broads? Comment, hit the ❤️️ below, or email me at WiggleToeBlog@gmail.com.
