Last Monday morning I started off to work. It was the first time I think in weeks that I was going to work and in a skirt. No clunky snow shoes. I had on my regular granny nanny tie shoes. I was feeling positive. As I got on the escalator the handle of my cane felt weird. Hmmm, I didn’t realize it was jointed. I use collapsible canes. And until the last few months didn’t break it out until I was in the last leg of the way home at Penn, then tucked it away on the train so when I stepped out it was safe in my back pack. That being said I also go with pretty. Not for me those orthopedic metal looking horrors. In fact, we argued with my Dad when he started using one for whatever reason, we got him an Irish walking stick. My first one was black with multi colored butterfly. This one was dark purple with flowers. I get to the top of the escalator, stop to adjust backpack and the handle split apart and flew off. Two men who are on my train picked up the pieces and handed them to me. OK so I am missing the handle but I still have the stick part, just about the same height, no problem, right? Wrong, wrong, wrong. It devastated me to realize that I couldn’t walk in empty space without it. When did this happen? I stumbled and staggered to the bus. Then I had to walk the block to the office. I held onto a marble barrier. Didn’t see my friend who sometimes crosses with me. There is a security guard who watches out for me and he was coming into work and helped me up the steps and into the building. The building is a city block so I had to prop myself up another 3/4 block to get to my floor and then walk half a block to my desk. I was shattered. Being nervous made it so much worse. During the day at work I don’t use the cane unless I go to another floor.
I recovered a bit and came up with Plan B. I did realize as soon as it broke that there was no way that I could walk and do my subway usual without it and was going to take a cab. My stagger into work when I wasn’t fatigued, was horrible. So I initially thought cab, not happening!
One of my friends volunteered to go down to Duane Reade and get me another cane. No, I have a pretty spring one at home. My friend, the receptionist, usually has a golf umbrella. My thought, it’s the right height with a handle. My other friend goes to get it. I call husband who says are you crazy? I’ll come in with spare cane.
He calls and tells the kids that he pictures me with the umbrella being lifted up and sailing over Grand Central, like Mary Poppins. Kids haven’t stopped giggling. And sometimes, he makes me feel like I am being dragged by Mary Poppins when he tries to make me walk faster and longer. I am skimming above the sidewalk.
And me, I miss being Peter Pan. Didn’t ya think you could fly like Peter when you were younger? I did. I can see and feel it in my mind. And I want to be Peter again. I want to be free and soar outside of my body again. I will figure this out!