What Happened to Me?

It's the million dollar question. If any of you can answer it, I would be grateful as it would save me hours of valuable time and dozens of awkward moments.

As you might be able to guess from my blog, I have never been one to suffer from a loss of words. Someone once told me that if I had to pay her a dollar for all of the extra words I used, I'd have no choice but to become her indentured servant since I'd never be able to pay her off. I like to pride myself on the witty comment, the funny story, and the occasional word of wisdom, and when people ask me questions, I generally take them seriously. There is only one question that dumbfounds me time and time again. It has come up more often recently, and each time, I freeze.

"What happened to you?"

I mean, talk about a heavy, existential-crisis-spurring, inquiry. I think to myself, "Is this a trick question? What does my answer say about me?" And in reality, I know that it is just an honest and somewhat brave attempt to find out more about me and my disability. The funny thing is, any question would be better. "What is your disability?" "What do you have?" "What's wrong with you?" All of these would be preferable to "What happened to you."

I've daydreamed about all of the possible cheeky responses. "What happened to me? What happened to you?" "I was born." "Oh, it's just a combination of tuberculosis and leprosy. [Cough cough]."

It's not such a big deal if a friend, or someone I have gotten to know, asks me. I am open about my disability, the history of it, etc., and I strive to demystify myself as much as possible with my friends. But there is something that offends me about a stranger, who knows nothing about me, asking such a personal question. And what's more, asking me in a way that assumes that something terrible--so terrible that it must be spoken of in a whisper--has happened to me. I realize that there have been days when I've skimped on the blush or taken an unfortunate hair risk, but I don't know that I have ever looked dejected enough to warrant a hushed, "What happened to you?"

You might be surprised with the diversity of the intrepid inquirers. I've had coworkers, estheticians (ouch!), barstool neighbors, crazies, teachers, kids, Members of Congress, and many others throw the question at me. I don't necessarily blame them, but I have yet to come up with a good answer.

For now, all I can offer is a word of advice. If I'm ever babbling on, flaunting my words at you, and you'd really like to silence me with one simple, strong blow, just lean in and ask, "What happened to you?" It'll work every time.