Who is an invalid?

Article from "The Turtle" newspaper
Posted on 17.04.2007 Translated by Yuli Ivanov

Dear Turtle,

I would like to tell you a story, or rather describe an occasion that occurs too often.
I was away from the city the whole summer. As soon as I came back, I went to the stadium where Dima was playing. He had an important game that day and I wanted to cheer him. Dima plays basketball, but frankly speaking that basketball is not of an ordinary type - people play it sitting in wheelchairs. Dima used to play ordinary basketball, before he was knocked down by a car. Now Dima cannot walk.
He was crossing the street, and, by the way, the green light for pedestrians was on. Now Dima tells everybody that they should pay attention not only to the colour of the traffic lights, but to the cars as well. That is especially important for those kids who say 'A car is not a tram, it can drive around me!' or 'Doesn't the driver see me crossing the street?"
After the game I brought Dima home. I often come to his place; he teaches me how to work on the computer.
Dima's mother brought tea for us. While we were drinking tea, I looked through Dima's photos. He told me he had spent most of the summer preparing for and taking part in competitions. Owing to sports, Dima had visited different cities and countries. It was a pleasure to hear him talking about his trips and achievements in sports. In one of the photos there was Dima, and behind him there was a sign with something written in a foreign language.
'What does it say?' I asked.
'People with limited physical abilities', translated Dima and his eyes grew sad. Then he added, 'Invalids'.
Then I asked him to play the guitar and he sang several songs that he had learned during the summer period. I asked Dima to show me a couple of new chords. Of course, it was not a couple of new chords, but a real lesson of guitar playing. He never refused to help me or any other boys. He helped boys learn to play the guitar, work on a computer and with lots of other things. If somebody was not immediately good at something, Dima repeated as many times as it was necessary to make the things clear. And he never lost patience. He said that God, who was always near, always helped him in everything. Then Dima asked me about the summer camp and listened to my story with great interest.
We were talking the whole day. Only when it was getting dark did I suddenly remember that I had to go back to the boarding school.
Approaching the boarding school I heard somebody call me. I turned around and saw Sasha, my schoolmate.
Even in the dusk it was easy to recognize him; his two-meter stature gave him away. I had not seen Sasha all the summer, for he had not been to the summer camp with us. He had stayed in town. Sasha began asking me about the camp and about the time I had had during the summer. I told him quickly about everything and I was about to enter the school when he took out a cigarette and lit it.
'And what about your summer time?' I asked.
Sasha was silent for a moment and then started talking about his "deeds".
'I was working as a "magnet" all the summer'. That is the word we call people who collected metal at the construction sites and plants, in somebody else's courtyards and garages, and anywhere it can be found, in a word, - "magnets".
Frankly speaking, every other boy in our boarding school has worked as a "magnet". Then Sasha told me how he worked at the construction site, but not for long because he injured his back and broke his leg.
Sasha wasted away all the money he had earned during the summer, he never bought a cell-phone he had been dreaming of. Money never stayed too long with him, it was spent on gambling or went to the till of the nearest beer stall.
Listening to Sasha's story I suddenly remembered that at the stadium I saw Ivanych, the basketball coach of the team in which Sasha used to play. Ivanych regretted that Sasha had given up basketball.
'He is so talented and gifted' said Ivanych. 'He has fine abilities and is so physically mature; he was such a promising boy'.
Ivanych asked me to tell Sasha that it was a shame not to make use of the talent he had.
I told Sasha everything. He answered that he would start training next Monday. And he would start going to school next Monday as well. But in reality Sasha never returned to sports. And he never returned to a normal life either.
A year later Sasha died from an overdose. That night I could not go to sleep and kept thinking about him. Only two years before he had asked Dima 'Is it unhealthy to smoke? 'Is it unhealthy to drink? Is it bad to gamble?' And then he answered himself, 'I will never do all that.'
That is the story I wanted to tell you, or rather describe an occasion that occurs too often. Why do people themselves limit their opportunities and cannot overcome their shortcomings?
Who is actually the person with limited physical abilities? Who is the invalid? - Dima or Sasha?