What a Migraine (and a Remarkable Client) Taught Me: Life Lessons On Gratitude, Ability & Systemic Failure

A few month ago I had the honor - and I don’t use that word lightly - of helping one of my clients pack for a move. She is a bilateral amputee, meaning she has no arms, no hands, no fingers.

Just take a second and imagine trying to do literally anything without arms.

• Brushing your teeth.

• Making a sandwich.

• Turning a doorknob.

Now imagine packing an entire home.

Spoiler alert: she shouldn’t have to.

There is no world in which it’s reasonable to expect a person without arms to handle something as physically demanding and logistically chaotic as moving alone. But the harsh truth is, we live in a country that does a really poor job supporting people with physical limitations - especially those without access to comprehensive healthcare, mobility support, or community networks.

It’s heartbreaking.

Meanwhile, as we packed together, I found myself fumbling and dropping things repeatedly. I was trying to laugh it off when I said to her, “I have trust issues with my fingers—I’ve got some mild neuropathy.”

Without missing a beat, she quipped, “Well, obviously I can’t have those trust issues,” as she waved what is left of her arms around.

She laughed, and therefore I knew I could laugh.

In that moment, I was floored - not just by her humor, but by her strength, her resilience, and the clarity of her perspective. It was then that I realized that I had been given the gift of a life lesson on gratitude and ability.

This experience came on the heels of a brief 36-hour mountain getaway I’d planned for myself and a friend. The idea was to relax, recharge, and cap off the trip with a concert I was really looking forward to. But I woke up the morning of my departure with a migraine so brutal it left me curled up in the hotel bed most of the day, curtains drawn, praying for it to subside enough for me to function. I was frustrated and honestly felt pretty sorry for myself.

When my friend and I arrived at our hotel for our mountain getaway, I immediately "bellied up to the bar" at 10 am and ordered several "shots"...of oxygen!!! So grateful to live somewhere that I know I can always get an oxygen "fix".

But then I thought about my client.

The way I was incapacitated for hours?

That’s her daily reality—except there’s no break from it, no expectation of recovery.

I just had a headache, a horrific one, but nothing I haven't overcomed before.

She lives in a society that isn’t designed for her body.

My temporary discomfort only underscored just how constant and unrelenting her challenges must be.

So many people like her fall through the cracks—especially if prosthetics aren’t a viable option due to cost, insurance limitations, discomfort, or simply the massive learning curve involved in using them effectively. And even when prosthetics are available, they rarely offer the kind of dexterity needed for complex, nuanced tasks like packing.

What could we be doing better for those facing a life with any type of disability?

• Government-Funded Support Services: More state and federally funded programs that provide in-home help for tasks like packing, cleaning, and transportation—not just medical care.

• Community Volunteer Networks: We need more grassroots organizations connecting volunteers with disabled individuals for real, hands-on help.

• Universal Design & Accessibility Training: Teach people how to make homes and workflows accessible from the ground up, especially for non-prosthetic users.

• Tech Innovation Beyond Prosthetics: Voice-activated tools, AI-assisted robotic helpers, and better-designed everyday items that can be operated without hands.

• Empathy Training for All: From schools to corporations, we need to normalize thinking beyond our own abilities and experiences.

  
  

I walked away from that packing session feeling a strange mix of gratitude and anger.

I am very grateful for my arms, my fingers—even the ones I “don’t trust”—and angry at how little we do for the people who don't have the same physical abilities.

Helping this particular client was a reminder that physical limitations shouldn’t automatically equal social limitations. And until we start building a truly inclusive world—through policies, tools, and mindsets—we are all falling short.

So here's to her.

To her humor.

To her persistence.

And to hoping the next time any of us who are able-bodied drop anything, we remember how lucky we are to be able to pick it up.

Be well, be safe and remember, always be KIND,

Beth

Not even a migraine was going to keep me from seeing a concert at this amazing venue! ✌️