At last
by Tommy
Whenever I tried to tell anyone why I loved my cane so much, I found I kinda couldn’t. I mean, it’s not that it gives me greater mobility, or takes the strain off my rotten knees.
Whenever anyone asked why I loved the cane, I really couldn’t answer. Corntacular as it sounds, I couldn’t get the words out, so I fobbed them off with some lame excuse about balance.
Now I have one.
It’s a physical manifestation of my disability. People see Aislinn, and they stop, they let me through doors, they make room for me, they give me more time if I’m following them somewhere. They offer me the lift.
When I was younger, I hated this. People were always instilling this need to conform. ‘We’re gonna make you as normal as everyone else’, they’d say. I was young, I was impressionable.
And so I went along. I squeezed though those gaps, I ran a few steps to keep up with people.
Except, now I’m older. I’m beginning to think. I don’t want to be the same. I’m obviously not. Inside, I am, sure, but being the same as everyone else doesn’t really help the fact my muscles are weaker than normal.
If all the cane does for me is help me socially, then by god I’m sticking with it.