LOL! Yeah, I just kind of gave her a weak smile and looked vague and started answering her questions in a vague, confused way, and she eventually left (I wonder what she wrote about me in her little book? )

I know what you mean when you say it's embarrassing but you're over it. You just HAVE to get over it, or you get flares, and frankly, I'd rather (or usually rather) have the embarrassment than a flare. I remember once when I was on a field trip to the Arizona state capital with my daughter's 5th grade class. We had just moved to Arizona, and the other moms didn't know yet that I was sick; I had been able to cover it up in the brief times that I had seen them (there were chairs available, or at least places to lean against). It's silly, but it's so nice to think that other people think you're normal! It was inevitable that they were going to find out, though, as soon as I was with them for longer than an hour. During the capital tour, I had been lucky - the occasional chair to make a beeline to; the ledges here and there to surreptitiously slink over to and lean/sit on. Finally, we were in the middle of the capital building looking up at the dome. Rats! Not a chair or ledge in sight, and the tourguide was going on and on! I lasted as long as I could, and then had to gracefully sink down and sit ... on the floor! It was either that or pass out, and I figured the former was slightly less embarrassing. People turning around and staring at me; I just give them a weak look with my eyes kind of crinkled up in pain and hope they realize I'm sick and not just lazy. Oh well; that wonderful time when you have to reveal that you're not "normal" and you know people are going to be talking about you

With my son, it's completely different - he doesn't have legs, and it's more than obvious immediately that there's something wrong! We've had to learn how to make "recovery" conversation - that bit of talk that gives people time to recover while they stare and blank out and can't figure out what to say. He's so charming and friendly, though, that as soon as they recover, they love him. The funniest story with him is when he was a baby - I usually kind of balled up part of the baby blanket around his legs, so he looked "normal", because you're tired of people seeing only the handicap instead of the baby. He was a lovely baby with blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes ("look at those orbs!" some guy at the store said). One day, a lady walked up to me and said, "Oh, I just LOVE looking at baby's sweet little feet!" and before I could say anything, she ripped off the blanket - and just stared with her jaw dropping down to her feet! I made some recovery conversation for quite some time - she was completely frozen, staring at him with her mouth hanging open. Finally, she managed to gasp out a few words and made a quick exit. I bet she never did that again!

re the wheelchair - I've started to use my son's scooter (we have several) for longer outings when I know I won't be able to sit. I can understand why a doctor might be concerned about us not walking enough, but they don't quite understand the flare thing. I want to walk as much as I can and understand it's good, but having the option of a scooter lets me do so much more. When we were camping last week, I was able to go on a little hike with the family using the scooter, and there's no WAY I could have done that walking; I would have had to stay back at the trailer alone. Just try to reassure him you understand the importance of walking, but this will let you get out more and do more things that you couldn't do otherwise, and that has important health benefits, too. Good luck!

re the excuse - yeah, you need something between something that makes people say "well EVERYONE has that!" and "OMG!!!!" I was thinking about it and realized that in my daughter's case, I was the one that usually gave the whispered excuse, and that lends a lot of credence (IOW, someone else besides my daughter believes it, if that makes sense). I usually say something like "She has a very rare disease and has to be really careful and can't do much" with a concerned look on my face. However, when she was at school and I wasn't around, the kids definitely did NOT understand, and it hurt. When she got her 504, that helped, because it sounded impressive ("I have that 504 medical thing and I'm not allowed to do that") - we found "not allowed" worked better than "can't". Perhaps try using the "not allowed" thing? It lends a little weight to what you're saying.