This is a letter to the man who approached my husband and me at a restaurant in Janesville on Sunday evening. When we arrived, we parked in a handicap stall because we have a handicap license plate. I have had five back surgeries, four knee surgeries, and I have recurring bursitis in my knee and hips. I live with pain every day. Yes, the license plate is for me.
You assumed the license was for my husband. It is not but could be. He has 10 screws and a plate in his foot. His ankle and some toes are fused. My point being, just because you can’t see the disability doesn’t mean it isn’t there. This person was leaving the restaurant and actually came back in and had the nerve to ask us why we had a handicap license. He thought we walked in pretty good.
An ugly shouting match took place. Please don’t assume that because you can’t see the problem, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It just made you look rude and offended us greatly. Yes, the staff and everyone there expressed their disbelief in what you said. Please be more courteous in the future.