Note: This column is for information purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional medical advice.

Q: My doctor has recommended that I use crutches and a power wheelchair for long distances. I have never used any equipment before, even when I had polio. I can imagine what people are going to say when they see me with crutches, let alone the wheelchair. I can't imagine what I will tell them when they ask me what's wrong. Isn't it easier not to use anything?

A: It would be emotionally easier not to go out in public with crutches or a wheelchair and look disabled. But if you keep overusing your body, you will continue to have PPS symptoms, lose function and will lose the choice to use crutches and a wheelchair. Appearing disabled in public for the first time, or appearing disabled again after decades of not using assistive devices--these are the main reasons that Post-Polio Institute patients refuse or quit treatment. And that makes sense when you remember that polio survivors were emotionally and sometimes physically abused for merely looking disabled.

Please know that people with disabilities are not public property. Unfortunately, the world often acts as if they are. When encountering someone with a disability, many people feel an uncontrollable impulse to ask, "What's wrong with you?" or, "What happened to you?" This morbid curiosity is driven by the same motivation that makes people slow down on a highway and crane their necks to catch a glimpse of a body in a car wreck. The media can be even worse than people on the street. It makes me nuts when TV reporters doing a story on PPS go for the tear ducts by asking our patients for pictures "before they were stricken" with polio or PPS to compare with new images of poor, decrepit "polio victims" hobbling on their crutches or "confined" to wheelchairs.

Newspapers and magazines do the same thing, reporting individuals' disabilities in tabloid fashion when the subject of the article has nothing to do with a given condition. A recent story about lack of access to medical care described two patients as "Betty, crippled by cerebral palsy" and "Sylvia, a stroke victim confined to a wheelchair," when a simple "Sylvia, who can't get into her doctor's office because she uses a wheelchair" is all readers needed to know. And don't get me started on how this all began, with March of Dimes posters showing children hobbled by polio, braced and looking sad and pathetic, with captions like "I could be your child," meaning: "Don't let your child become a pitiful cripple like me! Give money to find a vaccine." Depicting and describing disability in these ways serves to diminish those with disabilities, divides "the crippled" from "the normal," and even needlessly separates and segregates disability groups.

So, regardless of who's asking, compulsive curiosity about your disability does not trump your right to privacy. People have all the information they're entitled to when they just look at you and see a brace, crutches or a wheelchair. If someone walks up to you on the street and asks, "What's wrong?" or "What happened?" your response is totally up to you. You can ignore them and say nothing at all. And you have every right to say, "You don't know me. That's not an appropriate question to ask."

For situations where you do want to respond, it's helpful to have some ready-made answers. If a friend asks about your new devices, you can give a full explanation about polio and PPS, even give them The Post-Polio Letter. If a casual acquaintance asks about new equipment, you can respond with a brief, "I had polio and my legs are getting weaker." If a well-meaning stranger asks and you feel like responding, there's always the less revealing "I have arthritis" or even "It's an old football injury ... war wound ... skiing accident," which can quickly end the inquisition.

Another concern of polio survivors is that people will think it strange if someone who uses a wheelchair can stand up. Granted, it is expected that wheelchair users should not be able to stand. But drivers get out of their cars when they arrive at their destinations. Why shouldn't wheelchair users get out of their chairs? If you're a walker who rolls for long distances and someone stares or comments when they see you stand up, you can always look down at the wheelchair, look back at the person, look up to heaven and shout, "It's a miracle!"--and get back in your chair and go about your business.

Remember: It's your body. You can do--and say--whatever you want to!