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I told a man today that he would no longer be able to do his job. I don't know how many times he'd been told that before. He was looking for a different answer from me, and I could not give it to him. It broke my heart. The man sitting in front of me is tall, dark and handsome, not to mention intellegent. He made a lot of money. He had a beautiful house, a sea side condo, a plane, a couple of corvettes. He was fifty - in the prime of his life. A stroke stole that from him. He sits before me, dejected and frustrated. He can't even speak his feelings because words no longer come for him. His right arm is limp at his side - as useless as if it were amputated, and his once graceful frame, hobbles and limps with the use of a cane and a leg brace. He lives with his parents again, like a child. I am humbled by the fact that with all of my knowledge, skills and experience I cannot give this man is life back. I feel defeated.

I am an occupational therapist. Everyday I try and enable people to relearn the skills they've lost through injury and disability so they can lead meaningful lives. Some days my clients and I can conquer the disability and prevail in the effort to make the next step closer to a more rewarding life; some days the power of the disability whether physical, cognitive, or a barrier in the environment is so relentless that we have to admit defeat and try something new. Every day I am inspired by the tenacity and inventiveness of my clients as they strive towards the life they want. Every day I am humbled by how a seemingly insignificant injury can destroy a person's life.

Another client I see dislocated her finger and has soft tissue damage severe enough that she can't bend her finger very well or straighten it, and every time it is bumped she is in severe pain. She is a prison guard and uses her hands every day to break up fights or pat victims down. She hasn't worked for months because of this injury. She has run out of disability insurance so she humbles herself to bring in pop cans so she can afford the gas to come see me. She grows a garden so she can eat more economically. She works everyday on her exercises and notes the tiny improvements in movement as a small victory. This lady is disabled by one finger.

I am humbled by the trust and grace that my clients show me each day as we struggle to acheive their goals. I am frustrated by the barriers that the workplace or government sets up for people who are already struggling hard enough to return to meaningful employment. I am thankful each day for my health so that I can help people be thankful for theirs.

Learn more about this author, Jessica Callele.
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