What happens in the stall stays in the stall

Gene Weingarten had an article last week about the embarrassment some people feel about pooping in the workplace. In the toilet at work, of course.

He talked about people upset by their own smells or pooping sounds. I am OK with them -- everybody does it, and it always stinks. But I am not real sure he covered my worry; however, after today I am much more confident.

My embarrassment is sound but not farts. 

There's the near-constant grunting, leading me to believe other people to think I am passing an elephant. Nevermind that I am just grunting as I transfer, pull up or down my pants, reach for the toilet paper or anything else. 

There is also the noise when I am adjusting my chair pre- or post-transfer. Do they think I am birthing a Prius?

But no longer will I worry!

Today I went into the wheelchair stall. The other stall was occupied. I undid my seatbelt and began my transfer, leaning forward to grab the bar on the wall between the stalls. I missed the bar for some reason; my feet slid under the chair, sending my head and hands into the wall between the stalls. My butt was resting precariously on the chair, but I couldn't really recover without using my hands, which I couldn't really use because they were keeping me from falling.

All through that, no response from the other stall.

No response when my hands moved to the floor.

No response when one of my hands slid into his stall.

No response when I finally fell.

I thought maybe he was uncomfortable talking mid-movement, so  when  he flushed and opened his door, I was primed to tell him my stall door was locked but I really would love help. But no response.

Then he left.

I finally was able to pull myself up and no worries and no more embarrassment.