One of my uncles had polio when he was 2. Right leg 1 1/2” shorter than his left, the calf about the size of my biceps. At least a dozen surgeries, I’m not sure how long in an iron lung, enough metal in his right leg to built a radio.
I’ve watched him refuse to get a handicapped sticker or plates for many years, even when I had to help him get in the store, half carrying him sometimes. He finally had the leg amputated just below the knee and walks on an artificial leg now. Still refuses to get a handicapped sticker. He says as long as he can still walk someone who needs it can have the handicapped spot.
I did carpenter work with him for several years. I’ve seen him climb on ladders every day, walk on the roof every day doing several roofing jobs, crawl around on his knees doing floors. And I’ve seen him do it with blisters on his stump the size of a quarter...
And I’ve seen people half his age (He’s about 65 now) who won’t do most of the jobs we did and won’t do them half as well if they do. And I don’t like it when I see them in a handicapped space without a sticker...
My right foot is a size and a half smaller than my left and the theory is that I had a mild case of polio when I was about two as well. . . That threw off my back development. The time frame is right and I had a long term fever at that age the doctor attributed to a "milk allergy". They started adding a ¾" lift in my right shoe when I was about 10, because they decided my right leg was shorter than my left. . . but the problem was actually in my back. Not once from age eight to 14 did any doctor look at my back. By the time someone finally did, the double curvature was too set in to do much about except to arrest it going any farther with the Milwaukee Brace, a cage of leather and aluminum extending from my hips to chin—a medieval torture rack— which had to wear twenty-three hours a day.
I resisted getting that placard as long as I could. . .