Chapter 5 - The Speech
The applause was polite. Brent stood near the front, stiff behind his sponsor pin.
I set my pages on the podium and read the first line.
"Thank you for supporting patients living with invisible neurological conditions."
Too clean. I folded the paper and moved it aside.
"This morning," I said, "a man looked at me on a train and decided I didn't look disabled enough to sit down."
The room went still.
"He asked me for proof. I gave it to him. He called it fake. Then he called me a fraud, loud enough for the whole car to hear."
I took hold of the podium.
"I wish that shocked me more than it did. Some conditions don't come with a cane or a cast or a wheelchair. Some of us look fine because we've spent years teaching ourselves how to look fine."
I breathed.
"The hardest part isn't always the pain. Sometimes it's having to prove the pain is real before anyone will give you basic respect."
I looked around the room — not just at him.
"This program matters because dignity shouldn't be one more form a patient has to fill out."
One person clapped. Then the room was on its feet.
I stepped back before my legs could give, and for once it didn't feel like I'd handed anything over.
Dr. Osei caught my elbow. "Chair?"
"Wall first."
May you like
"Daniel."
"I know. Chair second."
