The leg that dare not speak its name

I've had a rather curious week, disability-wise, in that I managed to pull a muscle in my leg in Cambridge last week and so I have been walking around with a limp most of the time. Don't worry - I'm not going to claim that this gave me an insight into what it is like to be physically impaired, but I was rather interested in people's reactions, or rather the lack of them.

I wouldn't call myself a social genius or anything but I'm pretty sure that it is customary, when someone starts limping, to ask about the cause of the injury. However, this has only happened to me twice in the entire week. On the second occasion, I was so surprised that it took me three attempts before I understood what the person was saying. I can think of a few possibilities:

1) Perhaps no-one noticed anything unusual because I walk around weirdly all of the time. This possibility is not as bizarre as it may seem. I have often thought that I may have dyspraxia, not just because I am clumsy, but because I have considerable difficulty with muscle co-ordination. Therefore, maybe it looks like I am limping even when I haven't had an injury.

2) A related but slightly different option is that my work colleagues feel that they should not mention it because it may relate in some way to the fact that I am disabled. Because I have a cognitive impairment, which is an equally taboo topic of conversation, my limp may be regarded as something that is best avoided, although presumably it would not be for others.

3) Finally, perhaps I have broken some code of behaviour by going into work at all with a limp. After all, I've no doubt that most people would cry off ill in the same situation. I've read that disabled people take less sick leave than their colleagues, either because they are just less wimpy or they want to make the point that impairment should not be a barrier to work.

On the other hand, there is a very real possibility that I am simply experiencing disability paranoia. It was certainly buzzing like mad on Thursday morning when I was stopped and searched by the police. With my Southern European looks, maybe they thought I was Bosnian. I'm sure my gammy leg didn't make me look that much like a sinister Hollywood villain. Crazy? You decide.