I was standing on the l35th Street Bridge in Manhattan, enjoying the view of the Harlem River, when I was shot in the spine in broad daylight by a young man on a bicycle. The police called it an attempted robbery. If two people passing by hadn’t rescued me, I would have died. The bullet left me paralyzed. I am now paraplegic and use a wheelchair.
I spent three weeks at Harlem Hospital. Fearing I would lose all movement in my neck in addition to my lower spine, the doctors decided not to remove the bullet, which is still lodged in my spine. I then was sent to Mount Sinai Hospital for three months of rehabilitation.
I met many new people while in rehab and heard a variety of stories. One of the things that surprised me most was that, like me, nearly all of the minority patients were there not because of ear accidents, or because they had fallen off ladders at work, or because they’d suffered sports injuries but because they had been shot. The discovery disturbed me very much.
This was a hard time in my life, but much to my amazement, I did not despair. I felt that my injury would be a temporary thing. I believed that I would walk again, that God would heal me, that I’d return to the world I’d known. It never occurred to me that I would not be able to resume my work in construction.
My doctors told me that if a person was bitter before an injury, he’d likely be more bitter afterward. But if he’d had a positive attitude, he’d bring that to the new situation as well. I had always worked and been financially independent. I had always believed in building a future. In spite of my difficulties, that part of me did not change. And my faith helped me to help others. While undergoing rehab, I found myself being called upon by doctors and nurses to assist with their other patients. “Just talk to him,” they’d say. “Help us motivate this kid to get better.” And sometimes I was able to do that.
Eventually I began to accept what I had been told by so many people-that I would never be able to work in construction again. I was referred to the International Center for the Disabled in New York City for rehabilitation and vocational services to help me make a career change. ICD was the first outpatient rehab center in the United States. It’s a wonderful place with a staff that really understands what you are going through, a staff that doesn’t give up. Because I love working with young people and seem to be good at motivating others, I trained as a human services assistant and received certification in that program.
But I hated to throw away all my years of experience and all that I knew and loved about construction work. I had many discussions about this with the director of ICD’s Business Opportunities Development Department. Together we came up with a way to combine my years of experience in construction and love of that work with my training in human services and interest in young people. I now manage ICD’s painting crew, which is made up entirely of people with disabilities. These men and women come from all kinds of backgrounds and have many kinds of disabilities, including head injuries, visual limitations, kidney failure, developmental problems, learning disabilities and seizure disorders. Several are partly paralyzed.
I bid on jobs, organize the workload, order supplies, assemble the work teams, supervise the jobs–and do a lot of the plastering and painting myself. My crews have renovated, refurbished and painted government offices, medical suites, apartments and the offices at ICD. We do a better job than anyone else because we’re out to prove something.
I teach my crew members a trade they can really use. By sharing my confidence, they gain confidence, too. We sometimes surprise people who don’t expect to see individuals with disabilities doing this kind of work. To me, we are proof that no one should be denied the chance to work because he or she has a disability.
There are more than 49 million Americans with disabilities, more than one person in every five. In fact, we are the country’s largest minority-and the only one that any person can join at any time. Disability doesn’t discriminate. As I have learned, no one is guaranteed safety from accident, illness or violence. I had never thought about becoming disabled before I was shot. Most people don’t. I had never thought I’d have to change my life.
Despite passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act in 1990, 70 percent of people with disabilities between the ages of lB and 65 are still unemployed. Each year the federal government spends 40 times more money to support people with disabilities not working than it spends to help us prepare for and find jobs. The cost to society is tremendous–in both human and economic terms.
Many people assume that we don’t want to work. But I do want to work. Most of the people I know want to work. A large number of us were employed before we became disabled and want to return to a regular, productive life.
But we need help to do it. We need long-term rehabilitation and medical coverage we can count on. We need to be free from the threat of losing our health and social-security benefits if we become employed. And most important, we need job-training programs that work-and real job opportunities.
I believe that government and business should not write off people with disabilities but should invest in us. In this time of cutbacks in government spending, a changing policy toward government “handouts” and downsizing in business, everyone has to do more than “talk the talk” so that we can “walk the walk.” Give us the job-training programs we need–and hire us. It’s a good investment for the whole country.
