A Sticky Situation

Almost 18 years ago, I awoke on the day following my wedding with a seriously sore ankle. Looking at the comments on that post nearly 2 decades later, I wish I'd taken the Navigator's advice and cut the damn thing off. And to the anonymous poster - yes, I do wear those brown orthopedic shoes. 

And I'm walking with my cane again. 

Yeah, I'm back on the stick. Rhonda and I took a lovely walk through Wascana Trails on Sunday. And by walk, I mean stumble and climb and hope we can get back up the hill. It didn't hit me then, but I certainly woke up yesterday feeling it. 

Contrary to the conclusions of my doctor at the time, the ensuing 20 years have revealed that it most certainly is gout - and probably a nice healthy dose of arthritis too. I've got medications for the gout, but I do need to be a bit more careful about going off-road with this 80-year-old body. Have I mentioned I also have glaucoma, and I take drops every day to treat that? Peachy. 

Walking with a cane isn't the classic, stylish endeavour I'd always imagined it would be. It's a lot less Victorian gentleman and more cranky, wobbly Dr. House. Sometimes I like to pretend I'm House because I feel that grumpy. But my medical diagnosis skills aren't there. I'm 3 for 68.

And it seems I use that damn thing more and more all the time. 

I recently re-read "The Hound of the Baskervilles", the Sherlock Holmes book by Arthur Conan Doyle. The book opens with Holmes and his ever-present assistant, Watson, inspecting the walking stick of one Dr. James Mortimer. They deduce that he worked at Charing Cross Hospital, had a dog and had moved his medical practice into the country.  

Sometimes I look at my own walking stick with that same eye. Like Dr. Mortimer, I have a dog who has picked up my stick a time or two. Her teeth marks are pretty evident. And it's my right foot that bothers me the most, you can tell by the way the handle and rubber tip have worn. And I imagine you could come to some conclusion about how I spend my money based on the fact that this is clearly a lower-cost handmade item and not some mass-produced aluminum and rubber deal you get at the drugstore. Although I have one of those, too. Maybe I need to get it engraved or bound with brass to give more clues about me. Or maybe I stay a bit mysterious. Or maybe I don't forget my cane at the private residence of England's greatest private detective. 

But as fun as it is to play detective and look like I took a dumdum bullet in the Boer War, being on a stick is uncomfortable, inconvenient and generally a pain in the ass. Not only is there the pain of my foot, but having to adjust to walking on a stick causes soreness all over the body after a while. You don't just lose a foot, you generally lose a hand since you're always holding the damn cane. Not to mention, every time you lean it up against something to take a pee or grab something, it inevitably falls to the ground.

But I am thankful for ramps, automatic doors and buses that can lower their decks. As much as I've always tried to avoid misusing accessibility infrastructure so that those who need it have it, I'm glad it's there now when I need it. 

And then there's the motivation-draining aspect of this whole thing. Like I don't wanna do ANYTHING right now. I could be forgiven for wanting to avoid building a barn or cleaning house, but I don't even want to sit and play video games or play guitar - like non-standing things. I just want to lie around. 

Ah well. Hopefully, it fades off by the end of the week, and I can start to feel like a normal person again soon.