Have you ever sat down at Disney and people watched?

We see the families in matching shirts, the toddlers melting down over a dropped churro, and the guests riding around in electric scooters (AKA ECVs).

It’s human nature to quickly judge someone based on what we see. But sometimes, the most painful battles are the ones that are entirely invisible.

This couldn’t be more true for my aunt. Last Spring, she was visiting Orlando for the first time. So naturally, my wife and I took her to Disney World.

At the time, if you would have seen my aunt, you would have noticed a few things about her. Like how she always greets us with a big smile. Or her excitement knowing she had just dipped her feet in the beautiful beaches along the Gulf. Or how she always found a way to make fun of my uncle for being late or forgetful.

The Physical Battles Aren’t Always Surface Level

To any unsuspecting person, she was a beautiful, healthy-looking 50-year old woman enjoying her time in Florida.

But you wouldn’t have noticed that she was battling late-stage liver cancer—the type in which her medicine made her body to develop blisters on her feet that would make it painful to take more than 20 steps. The type in which she needed to start her mornings later and end her nights early because due to fatigue.

The type that would take her away from us no more than 10 months later.

Because of what you didn’t see, we decided to rent a wheelchair to give her the ability to experience the magic of two Disney parks in one day. We were able to show her the awesome wildlife at Animal Kingdom and the cool merchandise at Mitsukoshi Department Store in EPCOT.

If you had walked past us that day, you wouldn’t have seen a diagnosis written on her forehead. You wouldn’t have seen the cellular-level exhaustion caused by her cancer meds. You just would have seen an excited woman in a wheelchair.

We’ve been conditioned to expect visible proof of disability—a cast, a sling, or advanced age. We look for the so-called evidence that justifies the use of a mobility aid.

But as we learned that day at EPCOT, the evidence isn’t always so obvious.

The Tip of the Iceberg in the Parks

The truth is, chronic illness, pain, and trauma are rarely obvious.

When we’re in the Disney bubble, surrounded by magic and excitement, it’s off-putting to see someone who looks perfectly able-bodied utilizing a wheelchair, an ECV, or the Disability Access Service (DAS). Our brains try to make sense of what we see. We think, “They look fine.”

But that 25-year-old on his way to Space Mountain could be a cancer survivor. The teenager laughing with their friends might be battling a nervous system disorder where standing still for 20 minutes triggers a fainting spell.

A real handicap doesn’t always look like what we expect.

The Medical Perspective vs. The Public Gaze

As a Doctor of Physical Therapy, I operate by a different set of rules.

I don’t assume—I ask.

If a patient walks into my clinic with a normal gait pattern but tells me their pain level is an 8/10, I don’t point at their legs and say, “But you walked in here fine.” I dig deeper. I look at her mechanics, her medical history, and the internal inflammation that isn’t visible on the surface.

In public, however, we rarely dig deep enough to understand. To be fair though, a Disney, we have no time to even try. We quickly see a snapshot of a person.

We don’t see the hours of recovery required afterwards or the medication managing their pain levels just enough to get them through a few hours of walking.

Your Permission Slip for the Parks

So, how do we apply this mindset to your next vacation?

1. Avoid Auditing Others​
When you see someone stand up from a wheelchair to take a picture, or bypass a line using a service you don’t fully understand, choose curiosity over judgment. Remind yourself: I don’t know their story, and I don’t know their pain.

2. Avoid Auditing Yourself​
This is the most important tip I can give you as a Doctor of Physical Therapy. If you’re dealing with an injury or a chronic health issue, don’t wait until you’re in agony to use a mobility aid. Don’t wait until you’re on the verge of collapse to ask for a break.

If you have a condition that limits your energy or causes pain, using a wheelchair or ECV isn’t “giving up”—it’s energy conservation. It’s the difference between going home at 2:00 PM in tears or staying for the fireworks with a smile.

You don’t need to “look disabled” to deserve accommodation. You just need to require it.

The magic of Disney is that it allows us to leave the real world behind, but it doesn’t mean we can leave our bodies behind.

Listen to what your body is whispering to you before it starts screaming. Use the tools available to you.

I’m thankful that we did for my aunt.