Seeing The Cane As A Helper, Not the Enemy

Today started out pretty rough but I didn’t go on a rampage or end up arrested, so I guess that’s a positive. And I turned it around, too. I even surrendered and used my cane after months of resistance, but we’ll get to that.

Firstly, I didn’t sleep well. It took forever to fall asleep, then a few hours later the giant dog desperately wanted to be let out of the bedroom to go inspect the Roomba downstairs. He’s inspected the Roomba numerous times. It runs every morning at 6 am, but it often sounds like there’s a drunken brawl going on as it crashes into the kitchen chairs and bounces off furniture and I think that concerns him.

After I dragged myself out of bed, I finished making cinnamon buns. The dough had been rising overnight in my stand mixer. I took it out and sprinkled the last few ingredients over the dough. I kneaded it, rolled it, and cut it. Then I filled up the bowl of the stand mixer with water to soak, so it would be easier to wash the starter residue off the bowl. I set it on the counter and turned to squat down to get a pan to bake the cinnamon buns in.

It was a delightful surprise when all of a sudden there was a few litres of cold water poured down my back and into my pants.

There was a crash, and water all over the kitchen. So much water. All over the floor, splashed on the counters, running under the fridge…and my mangy looking old cat looking wet and guilty as hell. The mixer bowl and attachment were on the floor.

If I could have caught the cat, I probably would have killed the cat.

Luckily I’d been about to wash a load of towels. I was able to use them to sop up all the water, then haul them upstairs to put in the wash. On my way back down to the kitchen, I fell down the stairs. Again.

I’m so sick of falling down the stairs.

It’s only a matter of time before I break my leg and because I’m 40 and not drunk, falling down the stairs tends to leave a bit of a mark.

So I bawled with frustration in the kitchen while I waited for my cinnamon buns to bake. It’s been six months and I’ve done all the things. I’ve done the yoga and the 9 cups of vegetables a day and the exercise and the physio and I’ve taken all the vitamins and pills and did everything I was told so I could get better and six months later, I’m still having a hard time going up and down stairs and walking without falling.

Well, I guess I’m not having a hard time going down stairs. I tend to get down them very quickly sometimes, so I suppose one could argue that I’m just more efficient at going downstairs now.

I’m trying to come to terms with not getting better. What if this is my life now? It’s not just having disabilities and neurodeficits. I’m trying to also wrap my head around having PTSD and now being someone who is vulnerable. Who looks vulnerable when out in public. I’m now someone who can’t run from any kind of threat whether it be a fire, a ticking package, or an attacker. Flight is no longer an option, and depending on the day, fight sometimes won’t be an option either. (I’ll talk about my sleeping goat responses another time, it was a treat!)

I’m trying to accept that I’m probably permanently disabled.

Some days I’m okay. Some days are harder and then I’m not okay. But I’m so sick of having bad days, I’ve had enough bad days in my life, that I took a deep breath and assured my husband via snapchat that he didn’t have to come home from work and I would be okay.

One of my favourite mantras is reminding myself that “I still have time to turn this around.” Sometimes I can’t drag myself out of the miserable head space I find myself in, but when I’m able to remind myself that I still have time to have a good day, it helps.

So I ate three cinnamon buns, which were amazing, and I put on my coat and went for a walk.

And I took my damn cane for the first time.

I’ve used the cane before when I’ve been having a rough mobility day and I needed to run errands, but I quit walking outside months ago. I managed to lurch and stumble and trip and fall through the daily outdoor exercise to complete the 75 Hard Challenge leading up to my birthday in November. The last few weeks were a challenge indeed after my brain broke, but I was committed, so I finished it. If you’re familiar with the 75 hard challenge, you know how tough it is even when you don’t have a damaged brain stem.

Once the challenge was over though, I quit walking outside. After about 20 minutes I lose the ability to dorsiflex my left foot and I have foot drop. I stumble and trip and I’m a fall risk. And let’s not forget that it looks ridiculous. I’ve walked on the treadmill instead until that too becomes dangerous once the foot drop kicks in.

Cam’s been encouraging me to go for walks outside like I used to, and take my cane. I’ve stubbornly refused. I don’t want to be identified as vulnerable and nothing screams ‘easy target, take my purse!’ like walking with a cane.

It occurred to me today that lurching and stumbling and shuffling without a cane identifies me as vulnerable too. So I guess I needed to pick my vulnerable.

At least with the cane, if someone tries me I can use the cane to smash them in their own vulnerable.

If I’m permanently disabled, am I really going to choose to never walk outdoors again? That seemed a little silly and probably not in my best interests.

I needed something good today because damn it, I fell down the stairs. Again. So I put my heavy coat on because it’s cold and rainy. I grabbed my cane from its spot by the front door and I went walking.

Going outside in the rain is a magickal little thing. I’d forgotten how much better I feel about everything and anything when I’m able to be active outdoors. I saw only a few people out and about, and we gave each other a wide berth.

The foot drop wasn’t really bad today even though I walked 40 minutes. It’s possible that using the cane slowed the onset of fatigue. Or it might have been because it was pretty cold out so I didn’t get warm. Maybe it’s just a random good mobility day.

I’ll take what I can get.

It’s still cool and rainy, so it was a perfect time to turn the oven on when I got home to make some carby, cheesy, garlicky goodness for dinner. I made a garlic bread lasagna bread ring from Twisted. Oh…my…if you want to see what I’m talking about, click here. It was everything you could ask for in a comfort food! I’ll definitely be making it again.

After dinner, I curled up under my favourite fuzzy blanket with a tea and my laptop to blog about how today went from terrible to not too bad. I’m going to wrap this day up with a hot bath and then climb into my nice warm bed while the rain hits my window.

And I might take my cane for another walk tomorrow.