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The Cane - A Status Symbol

My faith is restored. I had sometimes thought that I live in the land of the imbeciles. Many a times, I felt the frustration of taking my mother out and having difficulty making her more mobile because idiots with mental handicaps decides to park at disabled parking lots. I suppose I should not blame them. After all, they ARE handicapped - mentally.

I often think most people do not show enough care and concern for the handicapped. But today I was pleasantly surprised.

I drove for the first time today, to pick Alison up from college and to the market. I had to stock up my Mother Hubbard's Cupboard ( aka my fridge)

I parked as close as possible to the open market, hobbled my way with the help of a cane. It was a LONG walk, not the distance, more like the time spent to put one foot in front, cane further in front and half drag the dysfunctional leg forward. Slowly, sadly but surely I reached my destination. There were concerned enquiries from nearly every stall I went. I dropped my purse at the greengrocer, she picked it up for me. Instead of having to lean forward to get change from the chicken lady, she reached out to me. Bags of purchases were placed into my hands. Helpers were summoned to help get my heavy stuff into the car.

When I step up or down a curb, concerned bystanders utter "Be careful" or  reach out their hands , just in case I topple over.

Maybe I should keep The Cane, even when I get too well for it.


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