No Cane Do

An excellent day has no cane in it. Today was excellent. I was tired, nauseous and in the usual pain; belly was swollen and I feel like I have the flu. But the cane stayed home while I ran a few errands and took a brief but wonderful walk in the park with my dog, Jack. This is the third day running that no cane has accompanied me. I can walk, get out of bed, get out of a chair and my car without help.

There is that moment when I first stand, however, hunched over and frozen in time for about 60 seconds. It's always the time when someone will look my way with an expression of great concern. I sense that they're not sure is they should help me. They don't--never do. Mostly, they look embarrassed for staring at someone who obviously can't move. Cane days are even more awkward.

There's something about the cane that instigates a pity response from people. The little cane elicits less than the big, four legged, cane. You know the kind you only see little old ladies using. Being seen with it is an outright statement of serious disability. It's the best, though.

That big cane will steady my shaking body and I can grab it with two hands like a burly home health aide and pull myself right out of bed. As I shake, it will hold me upright for that scary moment or two when I'm not certain I can do it. It's my synthetic helper and it gives me confidence. I should call it "Big Joe" or something. Maybe I will.

I digress with my display of affinity for Big Joe. But, back to my prescient objective of documenting my functionality for Big Brother. I was functional from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Now it's over. My back aches and I need to lie down and rest; reflect on a good day. Today was not pain free but cane free.