My Life as a Bush

No, not George W, Laura, Jeb or Jenna. I mean the type that grows in the ground. A shrub. A plant.
I have become a bush--low growing and inanimate.
Let me explain.
For those of you who have been following this, you'll know that I broke my pelvis ten days ago and can only get to doctor's visits and therapy in a wheelchair. And everything I've read about being confined to a wheelchair is true.
1. People don't look at you. I was wheeled past the hot tub with three friends sitting in it and not one of them noticed me.
2.People talk to your caregiver, not you, as if there is something wrong with your mental process, not your legs.
3.And the most recent one--people treat you like an inanimate object. I was parked outside my health club where I had been swimming, waiting for John to drive the car up to the front entrance, when a group of people came out. I was parked beside a shrub in a tub. They stood around me, within a distance I'd normally see as an infringement of personal space, and talked over me, across me, as if I too was growing in a tub.
I find all this fascinating and I'm going to read up on it. I'm also taking notes and have to use a wheelchair bound character in a future book. Think of what she could overhear and observe!