My cane needs me.
The poor thing has become dependent on me to fulfill its daily needs. Not a day goes by that my cane does not seek me out to provide some measure of comfort for it. Like a dog it requires its daily walks.
My first cane came to me in 2013. I found it hiding in the backroom of a thrift store near the lake where I had been camping. Its smooth varnished wood marred by a small knotty defect near its rubber sole. The defect was too much for others to be around so they left the store with their new friends.
We got along for a while, but the relationship had its shortcomings. It was left behind on too many occasions, not wanting to be seen in public. Eventually its marred, sad body got left in a dark trunk.
Walking was easy with the limp the first couple of years for short distances without the cane. Walking saw the left leg swing out then plunk down in perfect unison with the right. This carried on for a couple of years, but became increasingly difficult. At this point MS is still manageable.
Manageability is the thing with MS. MS takes control, and some lifestyle tools are needed. While I was being told by friends, and family, that I would walk better with that cane, I hesitated. I didn’t want to be seen in public with the thrift store cane.
Then it dawned on me how I was seen in public. While getting out of truck one morning at the coffee shop I observed a car with a couple sitting in it. I could see an unusual look on their faces as I wobbled my way to the door. I opened the door then looked back, and observed the couple in a frantic discussion while looking towards the door and my truck. They were pointing in my direction.
I imagine the conversation went something like this: “That guy looks drunk,” says the fellow.
“We should do something. We should phone the police. We can’t have drunks like that behind the wheel,” the woman responds.
Pointing at the door the guy says “I’m going to confront that drunk.”
I turned in to the store and walked to the counter where I was greeted by a familiar friendly face.
“Good morning, Colin. Your usual?”
“Please, and thank you,” I responded.
After the usual friendly exchange of pleasantries I took my seat to settle in to wait for the rest of the coffee crew. I then noticed the couple from the car walk in. They approached the counter with the occasional glance in my direction while speaking in hushed tones. Just then a couple of uniformed police officers walked in. Both move in my direction, wish me a good morning, remove their coats and drape them on the seats at my table.
I glance over at the couple to witness their confusion. I now wonder if they reported a drunk driver or were just concerned. I reflected on how I would be observed by someone who does not know me. I need to use a cane to alleviate any possible issues.
Later that day I am presented by my wife another cane. This cane has a shiny glow about it. Purchased at a specialty shop this cane had all the right moves. It was sleek and sexy with a big bottom. It also came with a few tricks that set it apart from the thrift store cane.
“You really need to use your cane,” I was had been told by a good friend who is also a Physical Therapist. I was told that the cane would, not only help me walk, but save my hips from permanent damage. If I’m going to walk properly again I want to do it with non-damaged hips.
My new cane and I struck up a relationship. Me and the shiny cane became one. We went out to restaurants and pubs. We went shopping together, and took in a few movies. I took the cane on vacations to Arizona and Disney World. We became inseparable. When I went walking with my wife I would no longer hold her hand as my cane came between us.
I used it so much its bottom got a bit worn so I took it out to the store for a new fitting.
It would be easy to assume that our relationship is strong because we are so close. But this is a one-sided love-hate relationship brought together by the damage inflicted by MS. Walking with the cane is still difficult, and throughout the years, the MS damage has taken its toll. There are times that, despite the cane, my left foot will trip on even ground. In a crowd of people there are always the good Samaritans who will act in order to catch a fall.
Luckily, and thankfully, that has yet to happen in public.
The cane was there to save the fall. I may not like it, but my cane still needs my numb-footed presence.
On The Road With MS 