You Can Easily Be Next
Each time a government minister turns their back on addressing an issue that affects the health and welfare of persons with disabilities, they may not realize the truth staring them in the face: they could easily be next.
Each time an agency dismisses or delays a critical decision, each time a workplace neglects to provide accessibility, and each time a community chooses convenience over compassion, the same reality lurks nearby—one of their own could easily be next.
Disability is not an abstract condition belonging to a distant “other.” It is not confined to those who are born with it, nor to those society conveniently categorizes as “the disabled.” Disability is part of the human experience. It can arrive unannounced, in the form of an accident, an illness, or the simple process of aging.
Yet too often, disability is ignored, forgotten, or left behind in the margins of policy and planning. The buses without ramps, the schools without resources, the hospitals without training, and the workplaces without accommodations—they all stand as reminders of a collective blind spot.
But here lies the irony: those doing the forgetting, the excluding, and the neglecting are rarely mindful that they themselves could one day need the very support they are denying others. In the blink of an eye, the minister, the policymaker, the executive, the neighbor—all could suddenly find themselves navigating life with a disability.
Disability is not someone else’s issue. It is everyone’s issue. And until it is treated as such, society will continue to fail—not just those living with disability today, but those who will join their ranks tomorrow.
Because you can easily be next.
I’d like to leave you with this for your consideration.
Imagine a dimly lit street at dusk. The pavement glistens as though it just rained, and shadows stretch unnaturally long across the ground. In the foreground, a lone figure walks quickly, glancing over their shoulder. Behind them, blurred silhouettes hover—indistinct, faceless, yet clearly advancing. The figure’s hand clutches a phone tightly, its screen glowing like a fragile beacon of safety in the growing dark.
Streetlights flicker, some out entirely, casting pockets of uncertainty where anything—or anyone—could be waiting. The air feels charged, as if danger itself hums in the silence. Off in the distance, a glowing sign or a door left ajar suggests escape, but it feels too far away, almost unreachable.
The atmosphere is thick with tension: you, the reader, can feel the heartbeat of the person in the scene. The message is clear—this could be anyone, anywhere, at any time. The ordinary moment of a walk home suddenly transforms into a chilling reminder: you can easily be next.
Image = A diverse group of people waits at a bus stop on a cold, overcast day with snow along the sidewalk; a public transit bus has deployed a ramp to accommodate passengers with disabilities. A woman wearing sunglasses and a beige beanie steps onto the ramp using a white cane, followed by a man in a wheelchair. Behind them, two elderly men with walkers wait their turn, and two younger men—one in a suit holding a briefcase and the other in casual attire with a backpack—stand nearby. The scene emphasizes accessibility and inclusivity in public transportation.
To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit http://www.donnajodhan.com