“Faisal can’t get a disability certificate.”
I was frustrated to hear the doctor’s utterance. We had already spent several hours filling an online form, then waiting in line.
But the medic’s next line took me by surprise: “He isn’t eligible for a disability certificate because he’s not really disabled. We can fix this!”
***
Faisal fell out of a tree when he was seven, injuring his left leg. His family didn’t take proper care of the wound, and his leg healed in a bent-up position, creating a webbing behind his knee which prevented him straightening his leg. Faisal had spent his last 15 years hopping on one leg.
Disability hadn’t prevented Faisal from living life. With the support of a long bamboo pole, he could get around surprisingly fast. I met him first in 2019, when he was just 22 but already married and the father of a young boy. His family lived in a shack by the side of the railway track. There was no running water or toilet (Faisal had to scramble somewhat awkwardly up the embankment to the railway track to relieve himself). Faisal worked double the hours of a normal ‘full time’ job: he spent 14 hours a day, 6 days a week, making purses in a nearby sweatshop. The huge supply of relatively unskilled labour in India keeps the wages for this type of industries extremely low (he earns the equivalent of $0.40 per hour).
After the interaction in the disability office, we met the plastic surgeons, who gave us a tentative operation date in March 2020. Then a little something happened: Covid! All elective surgeries were deferred indefinitely, as the medical system was thrown into crisis.
The pandemic years were tough for Faisal and his family. The informal economy was shut down for months at a time during the lockdowns, leaving labourers and craftsmen like Faisal with no work. Even when things opened up again, there was a severe recession – people had very little disposable income, so were not buying much. To make matters worse, the little line of shacks by the side of the railway was demolished in January 2021, leaving Faisal’s family – and about 50 other households – homeless. Faisal somehow managed to rent a tiny room for a while, the family relying on his wife’s meagre income as a domestic help.
Like the rest of the world, Faisal drew a deep sigh of relief as the pandemic gradually receded. After a long wait, he was at last ready for surgery.
***
In March 2023, surgeons cut the webbing that held Faisal’s leg in a bent position, and applied a skin graft from the other thigh. However, the leg couldn’t be straightened suddenly, as his tendons and ligaments would tear. Instead, the surgeons inserted four metal pins through his bones – two above the knee, two below. There was another set of metallic rods connecting the pins, joined by some screws. His family had to literally ‘turn the screws’ each day to gradually straighten his leg.
The straightening process took two months, often causing intense pain as his leg was put under serious force. Faisal needed to remain prone on his stomach for the hottest months of the year. Though in intense pain and discomfort, Faisal was remarkably joyous. ‘I just can’t wait to walk’, he told me cheerfully, ‘When I’m better, I’m going to do a job that requires a lot of walking’.
By early June the leg was straight. But they reasoned that removing the pins too soon may lead to the leg reverting to its bent position. The ever-patient Faisal acquiesced. Finally, the pins were removed on 21 June.
But Faisal hadn’t finished his ordeal yet – next was a lot of physio! The leg had been straightened successfully, but now it could barely bend. If he wanted to walk normally, he would need to regain at least some range of motion. The physiotherapist was extremely friendly, but had the attitude of ‘no pain, no gain’, and would test even Faisal’s impressive pain tolerance levels by progressively flexing and extending his leg further and further.
The physio also emphasised the importance of walking practice. After two decades of disuse and atrophy, Faisal’s left leg was several centimetres shorter than his right. We needed some custom-made shoes, with the left shoe having a substantial platform. Decked up in these and with a walker, Faisal was finally ready to roll.
There was still a small problem, though. Faisal’s shack by the side of the railway track was built on rocky, uneven, steep ground – not the ideal surface for learning to walk again. We came up with a solution which meant more exercise, not just for Faisal! For a month, different members of our team took turns to piggyback Faisal across the railway tracks to a quiet, flat road where he could practice walking.
Soon he graduated from the walker to a cane, and then to walking without any support. Before we knew it, he was walking around the slum himself. He is still no Usain Bolt. His left leg still has barely any muscle on it (in sharp contrast with his right leg, which has borne his weight alone for years). But he is walking!
Ironically, when I took him back to the disability office, the doctors confirmed that the difference in length of his legs did indeed qualify him for a disability certificate, after all!
Now Faisal is back at work. This is not a fairy tale – he is still working 14-hour days for a pittance. With both he and his wife working, they’ve been able to rent a better room, away from the railway tracks. He dreams of opening his own purse-making business; and, one day, of owning his own home. If he applies the same patience and persistence that he demonstrated through his treatment, perhaps he will be able to realise his dreams.
*Faisal is a pseudonym.
Tags:
