On Getting a Cane

I wondered at first if it would be more embarrassing to walk with a cane, or to walk like my 91 year old grandmother (you should see us together - it's a hoot!).

I have found that when I go out with my cane, people are way more likely to open a door for me, or let me pass first. It's kinda nice. They don't know why I use it, or anything about me, but they can see that I am not as physically able as they are.

When it comes down to it, my cane makes my invisible illness visible.

It makes it relatable, and more real for people who don't know me or my 'normal' ability. Without my cane, I look like a healthy, able-bodied, young-ish adult (sometimes I even look clean and pretty); I've felt judged on particularly bad days, when I'm grasping at walls, or holding onto chairs and railings for balance and shuffling along. But not with my cane. And because of that, it gives me confidence to go out more, to be seen and not worry about whether or not I'm going to stumble, or that I'm going to stay out longer than my body can handle graciously.

The truth is that by walking with a cane, I can do more. I can go places I wouldn't normally go. I can move more around the house when my symptoms are particularly bad (like now with this silly cold). I can walk further - I made it to the eight minute mark!

My son swirls it around, and pretends its a machine gun. He puts it under his arm, and uses it like a crutch. I'm glad someone's having fun with it!
I don't know quite how it conserves energy - but it does. And I have to say, it feels good to use it, even if it still makes me self-conscious. And of course, I had to Andyfy it. Just a little.