just a harmless cane?
I wrote the piece following last year...last year this week was my first really big exacerbation. I had dealt with arm weakness and tingling in the fall, but it was really nothing much in comparison. Last year, I started twitching and the next morning when I was still twitching, I was sent to the city hospital. By the time I got there and got out of the van, my dh walked ahead of me as I suddenly realized I couldn't move my legs properly. I wasn't paralyzed. I wasn't dizzy. I just had suddenly forgotten how to walk.
I remember it being such a surreal feeling, so surreal, in fact, that I laughed. I was thinking to myself - omg, I've forgotten how to make my legs work. When we walk, we don't think about it. We don't think "now the right foot, now bring the left leg up, lift your toes so you don't trip on them, put the left foot down and now the right foot" We just walk. We just walk.
That day...I couldn't just walk.
I remember I called up to my dh and said - wait! I can't walk. And we laughed. We laughed because I was walking like a drunk. Laughed because we didn't know what else to do.
There were no answers that day. There have been no answers still - but maybe we are getting closer. It didn't matter much if there were answers or not though - for ten days after that crazy day I couldn't walk. It was a big accomplishment when I got across the kitchen and I realized I had not thought about every step! It did get better but its come back many times since. Each of those times, I struggle with using a cane. I really think I believe in those moments that if I don't have a cane - no one will notice. Reality is - its impossible not to notice so what difference, really, would a cane make? I wrote the piece following this during that first week.
Just a sidenote - I have had a really great couple of months. There have been no big flare ups since October and I'm really happy about that. I suppose this would be a remission and I plan to bask in it. I do have a limp that comes out occasionally - but I'm able to ignore it pretty easily. The last episode I had - I did not use the cane...
He doesn't get it! I don't want a cane! My dh...God bless him - honestly.
But since I've had trouble walking this week and have particular trouble walking outside with some pretty realistic worry about me falling with all the ice and such, my dh is on a mission to get me to use a cane.
Now - truth be told - I realize he's probably right. I realize that I need one sometimes. I am prepared for the fact that I probably will get one, eventually use one and hopefully, before I fall and break something.
His uncle makes canes and he's asked him to make me one. He is determined that if I'm going to have a cane, I'm going to have the 'rolls royce' of canes. I figure, I'll stick with the minivan; the basic black model with the adjustable leg, the foam handle and the big foot. What he is doing is very sweet - he knows me. I am a woman who is very conscious of how I look. I have an eclectic, artsy style and don't ever have the problem of walking into the room dressed like anyone else.
But what he doesn't understand is - I DON'T WANT A CANE!!
I want the basic black 'mini-van' version so that I can throw it in the closet and ignore it and not feel badly. I can use it in public places where no one I know will run into me when I absolutely cannot go without it and then throw it in the back of the vehicle and swear at it for existing. I can yell at it and shake it and smack it against the ice stuck behind the tire of my van. And when I am walking better - which I am *sure* will be tomorrow - I can ignore the shit out of it as it sits in the very back of the closet rusting and peeling and feeling neglected.
I cannot do that with his uncle's cane.
His uncle's cane will scream - accept me! and Admit that I exist! and incorporate me into your life because here I am and I'm not going away and Look at how much people care about you. And when its being particularly evil - though probably not completely honest - it will say...oh, poor thing. Uncle had to make a cane not just for the old people in the family but for the poor young thing who can't get her feet to move properly. Poor thing.
His uncle's cane will mean I cannot deny that this is here to stay in one way or another. And I don't want it to stay. I don't want a cane. I want two feet that move properly.
My dh is an incredible man...he understands this, but he's going to get his uncle to make me one anyway. And he knows that it will sit, gently wrapped in bubble wrap, in the closet; waiting patiently for me to let MS into my life. There will be a day when I dress in my fancy clothes for some party and I will fix my hair just so and I will put my makeup on and I will adjust my earrings and grab my cane and head out the door without a second thought. On that day, I will be carrying his uncle's cane. On that day, I will have let MS live in my life.
But today - I will curse the black minivan version.
But since I've had trouble walking this week and have particular trouble walking outside with some pretty realistic worry about me falling with all the ice and such, my dh is on a mission to get me to use a cane.
Now - truth be told - I realize he's probably right. I realize that I need one sometimes. I am prepared for the fact that I probably will get one, eventually use one and hopefully, before I fall and break something.
His uncle makes canes and he's asked him to make me one. He is determined that if I'm going to have a cane, I'm going to have the 'rolls royce' of canes. I figure, I'll stick with the minivan; the basic black model with the adjustable leg, the foam handle and the big foot. What he is doing is very sweet - he knows me. I am a woman who is very conscious of how I look. I have an eclectic, artsy style and don't ever have the problem of walking into the room dressed like anyone else.
But what he doesn't understand is - I DON'T WANT A CANE!!
I want the basic black 'mini-van' version so that I can throw it in the closet and ignore it and not feel badly. I can use it in public places where no one I know will run into me when I absolutely cannot go without it and then throw it in the back of the vehicle and swear at it for existing. I can yell at it and shake it and smack it against the ice stuck behind the tire of my van. And when I am walking better - which I am *sure* will be tomorrow - I can ignore the shit out of it as it sits in the very back of the closet rusting and peeling and feeling neglected.
I cannot do that with his uncle's cane.
His uncle's cane will scream - accept me! and Admit that I exist! and incorporate me into your life because here I am and I'm not going away and Look at how much people care about you. And when its being particularly evil - though probably not completely honest - it will say...oh, poor thing. Uncle had to make a cane not just for the old people in the family but for the poor young thing who can't get her feet to move properly. Poor thing.
His uncle's cane will mean I cannot deny that this is here to stay in one way or another. And I don't want it to stay. I don't want a cane. I want two feet that move properly.
My dh is an incredible man...he understands this, but he's going to get his uncle to make me one anyway. And he knows that it will sit, gently wrapped in bubble wrap, in the closet; waiting patiently for me to let MS into my life. There will be a day when I dress in my fancy clothes for some party and I will fix my hair just so and I will put my makeup on and I will adjust my earrings and grab my cane and head out the door without a second thought. On that day, I will be carrying his uncle's cane. On that day, I will have let MS live in my life.
But today - I will curse the black minivan version.
posted by spidermama at 11:30 a.m.
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