My Disability

Its taken me many years to acknowlege that I have a disability. A mild one to be sure, but a disability nontheheless. I can't tell left from right. Oh, I'll get it eventually, but while most people seem to react, immediately and correctly, to a call to look, or turn or reach left or right, I have to pause and ask myself "now what hand do I write with?" Even then, I sometimes still get it wrong. Growing up, my Mom and Dad were forever telling me, after making the wrong move, "No, your other left (or right)."
I've attributed this flaw to my "handedness". Some things I do primarily with my left hand (writing, throwing, golfing); others I do primarily with my right (eating, bowling); still others I do equally well (or badly) with either hand (painting, using most hand tools). I thought "no wonder I get confused." Now I find that explanation may not hold up.
Last week one of my co-volunteers at the Washington Senior Center needed a ride home. Dorothy is 83 years old, a former school school superintendant and is sharp as can be. She got competely flustered giving me driving directions, and with my problems interpreting directions, its a wonder I ever got her home. She admitted she's had a lifelong problem distinguishing left from right. And, she's 100% right handed.
I wonder whether she and I qualify for any disability benefits?