I would like to pose something more profound here, but seeing's how the deadline's approaching am deciding to take an easier, more humorous track:
 "Carnal Acts" reminded me of the two months I spent in a wheelchair back in late summer-early fall of 2001. While I never had the indignity of having people talk about me as though I wasn't really there--or referring to me in the third person--I did have a few illuminating moments during my tenure as a "handicapped" hostage.
  I refer not only to experiencing things from the physically-challenged perspective of someone chairbound, but as to the way in which my physical limitations were extrapolated into other channels--mainly by people who truly thought they were being kind and considerate.
  The best example of this occurred at EPCOT in Florida; my then-partner and I had already planned the trip, and she was willing to push me around (how's THAT for double-entendre?); we flew on Sep. 10th, 2001, just as a side-note.
  Anyway, I had to use the restroom, and she wanted to buy some film, so we decided to meet back by a certain kiosk. Well, somehow or other, our signals got crossed, and I ended up sitting all alone in my chair by that damn kiosk for almost a half-hour before she finally remembered we were going to meet back there! While I waited, I had several people come up and ask if I was lost; if I wanted my family paged, and--best of all--if I was hungry and/or thirsty because the oh-so-kind lady said I looked like I could use a sandwich!!!
  While this is certainly not as traumatic or demeaning as Nancy Mairs's accounts, I do feel my comparatively brief chair stint made her plight all the more understandable and commiserable to me.