I have some muscle atrophy in the outermost parts of my arms and legs. As far as neurological disorders go, it's a blessing. It's not going to kill me and it progresses at a glacial rate. I won't be a marathoner, but I hate running. I've never seen anyone who looked happy running. I digress.
I do use heavy plastic leg braces that run up the back of my legs and into my shoes. With these miraculous bits of thermo-extruded plastic, I am Superman compared to not using them. I can walk many miles a day, chase my kid, pretty much anything that isn't too jarring.
Somedays, however, because the body continuously changes with age, with season, with effort exerted the previous day, the braces are intermittently uncomfortable and my legs will occasionally hurt. I'll keep the activity down on those days and even venture into, the handicap parking area. I hate it.
If you park in one of these spaces, you better be tough. If you don't fall out of your car - devoid of arms and legs - and shimmy to your destination using only your chin to drag yourself along, you have not earned that privilege. I'm the first to admit I'm "too sensitive," but it's tough when people pause as they walk by, give you a full body visual inspection, and walk away with a confused look. It happens all the time.
If Frankie isn't around, I ask them if I passed inspection. This raises their consciousness a bit and they quickly walk away, hopefully introspective. I only do this when it is REALLY obvious.
When I wear shorts and the braces are visible, they are comforted knowing I have earned my BMV-granted perk. In those instances, they practically throw me a few nickels. It's great.
It gets a little easier to tolerate the judgement with age, but it never gets easy.