I am walking with my cane. That is a fact that I HAD to come to deal with about 3-4 months ago. Why? Cause when my Physical Therapist told me that he thought it would be a good idea to start (and I respect his opinion VERY much), I crashed. Maybe someday I will tell you about it. But needing a cane was a sign that I was going down, not up. And as much as I had read about this crap, I knew that we only go down. There is no pill, no new way of life, and no hope. Everything you do is to "slow it down" and "postpone the inevitable".
My cane too soon.
But last week, I caught a glimpse of myself walking down a DC street in a window of a shop. I am a vertical slithering mess. Here is the break down:
1. Right hip is sh*t, which causes knee to go in opposite direction of pain, which causes foot to go in opposite direct of knee for balance. Already, the right leg is a squiggly line.
2. Left leg tries to compensate. That is a sign of a good partner. You got to love him. He is always there for his brother leg and walk side by side (literally) to keep the body soldiering on.
3. Left arm (above the healthy leg) operates the cane (and yes, you have to use the cane in the opposite arm of your hurting leg. If I hear ONE MORE PERSON tell me that I am doing it wrong ... I am going to break tone kneecap, give them my cane and follow them to the ER .. with my camera to see how THEY would do it). But that poor left arm has its own mission. It knows there is problems on the other body quadrant. Its got a device and working the heck out of the brain signals to relieve the pressure for its leg cohorts. Its a soldier ... and well-armed (get it?)
4. Right arm is confused. And this is what I noticed the other day. Legs are brothers and the hips are their bond. The left arm has a device and fighting for the body. The spine is curling and trying to stay straight. The head is trying to stay high with eyes focused, determined, and full of pride. But the poor right arm. So much attention to everyone else, but him.
I realized my right arm was bone straight to my side. Stiff as a board. No rhythm of the walk. No instincts. It hates to even hold anything now adays, knowing there is a door to open soon and my bottle water will only f*ck that up. My poor right arm was scared stiff.
My body is forgetting itself.
I feel like that game Jenga. Crazy stacks of wooden pieces and you got to pull them out on a side, maybe in the middle or near the top or near the botto, but ultimately making sure the stack stands. It bends to the left then to the right, then to the left and right ... and pretty soon like the weird skin that a snake shed and my father held up to show me when I was a little kid. It was twisted and coiled, but I knew it came for a creature that can make a straight line if it wanted. What weird memories are dug up when times are ... different.
I feel like a Jenga game, right before that one guy with fat fingers pulls the wrong piece too fast and the entire (once beautiful and proud) tower comes crashing down.
I hate this sh*t.
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