Skip to main content

I'm Too Sexy for My Cane

I have put pride aside and taken up my cane. Every time I leave the house or car, I now use a cane for walking. It sounds so easy, writing about using a cane - but it's one of those life passages that's far more difficult than it sounds.


It is taking a whole lot of humility to be reliant on my cane. I try not to let the looks of curiosity or, even worse, pity bother me. But they do. I try not to let the comments suggesting I'm older than I am, bother me.(Maureen, you know what I'm talking about!) But they do. I try not to let the comments of empathy or pity bother me. But they do.


And I realize the reason it bothers me is that not only am I schlepping the cane I'm still carrying my pride. Wounded pride, but pride nonetheless. I'm trying to leave it at home or just to throw it away all together. After all, it's a lot of baggage to lug around while holding onto a cane. I'm trying not to care about looks or comments or senior discounts. Trying a little each day.


The song that often plays over-and-over in my mind, while walking with my cane, is "I'm Too Sexy for My Cane". (The original song was, 'I'm too sexy for my shirt' - but this middle age woman is definitely sexier with the shirt on!! )
I digress. The point behind my singing that song is that I don't feel on the inside like I must look on the outside - reliant on the cane. I don't know anyone in mid-age that feels mid-age - we all feel like we're still 20- or 30-something. My feeling about the cane is similar to that dichotomy. On the inside, I still feel fairly young and sexy. On the outside . . . well that's a different story!!!


I don't write this for sympathy. Really. I just want you to know that the cane is a fact of life for me these days. I'm no different than I was two months ago when I didn't use the cane daily. And if you see me humming a little tune while walking along, you can bet your sweet bippy that it's "I'm too sexy for my cane, too sexy for my cane. Too sexy . . ." Just wink and smile!

Comments

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Fairy Tales

What do London Bridge, Humpty Dumpty, The Three Little Pigs and Kathleen Piggins have in common? They all fall down!  Well with the Three Little Pigs it's not the pigs that fall but the house but I have three not-so-little Piggins and it just seemed appropos to include that fairy tale here! Because this is a tale about falling down. But it's also about getting back up! At last night's Douglas Social  my friend Kris and I meandered through the crowd greeting and often hugging friends along the way to the beer/wine tent - I spotted a friend that recently moved to the area and went to give her a big hug. and after proceeded to fall flat on my arse. Time seemed to stop and it felt that the all eyes in the crowd were on me as I landed and then proceeded to get back up with the help of friends. One of the saddest part of the fall, was that I had just gotten my first glass of wine and it was now all over me.  I thought "Thank goodness I was drinking white". And t...
1 comment
Read more

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

I put my pride aside and got my ass off the grass and into the wheelchair. {I spent a couple minutes deciding whether to put an exclamation mark after that declaration or to put the period after that statement. I think the period better suits my mood about getting said ass into the wheelchair!} On July 4, Saugatuck has a wonderfully unique parade that includes quirky participants like the artsy-fartsy campers at OxBow art colony and the LGBT members of a local foundation along with the more traditional participants like Girl Scouts, fire trucks, and local politicians. It had been a couple years since I had been to the parade, this year, though, my Mom and sister were in town and I wanted to take them. So we loaded up in the van, including Kerri's wheelchair and my own. Once we parked, John asked if I wanted to use my chair and I initially balked but then remembered that it can be a long, hot parade and it might be better to have a place to sit. So, I acquiesced and took the cha...
2 comments
Read more
My aunt recently commented about my blog that I do a  "great job of sharing things very personal without them being morbid, too dramatic, TOO personal". I am about to let her down . . . It's been a tough week.  We learned that a man we knew from treatment at UofM, with a similar cancer, passed away on Tuesday. We knew that just after the treatment at UofM concluded, that his cancer had meta-sized to his lungs and other treatments (including one at John's Hopkins) did not help. John Cleasby was only 57. In my mind, I can see his face in the chemo infusion room at UofM - coping as all the patients were. He was a quiet and gentle man - who happened to be married to a former co-worker of mine. While sitting next to each other in the infusion area, it seemed a blessing that I found a long-lost friend in the chaos that was the UofM Cancer Center and hospital. Bonnie Cleasby and I shared so much and had such similar outlooks. "We are going to beat this thing", ...
1 comment
Read more