I will never forget my ex, on seeing that my knees weren't working, and that I asked for their arm to help control the worst of the limping, told me with condescension that "people like me" needed to give "real people" like them prior notice in writing of any assistance I might need so that they, the real people, could decide if what I was asking was "appropriate."
And now, my damn knees barely let me walk the length of my building, and my coworkers, bless 'em, are trying to sneakily do my needs-walking tasks for me. Because I look so bad staggering around.