I am free. At last. Free to stagger down to the end of the bus in search of the last seat. Free to stand at bars. Free to carry an umbrella and a bag at the same time. Free to sit in a restaurant without tripping the waiter up. Free from strangers asking what's wrong with me. Free to take the stairs. Free to get through revolving doors without jamming them and me. Free Free!
The stick is gone. Long live the stick. A trusty companion for months, I am semi naked without it. A constant 'something's missing anxiety'. Phantom limb syndrome. Almost limpless, I am now almost normal. Which, irony or ironies, does have its drawbacks.
For while I can walk without a stick, for several blocks even, hills are not my forte. Nor are cobbles. And when you live in a world heritage city, this is a serious disadvantage. There is no iPhone application yet that route plans for these eventualities. Not that I have an iPhone. But I would if such an application existed.
And with the stick, goes the sympathy. And the generosity. Strangers pushing past me now don't know that if I stumble, I'll probably fall. Bus drivers take off before I have got to my seat. And car drivers rev in frustration as I troop slowly over crossings. And the chats I used to have with other people with sticks. (There's a whole stick community out there which you just don't see if you don't have a stick yourself.)
And I am slow. Terribly slow. With funny little short steps to avoid putting too much pressure on my knee. But this will improve. In four weeks I will be back on my bike. My knee will be strong enough to start impact work (that's physio-talk for running). And my two trusty sticks will be returned to St Johns - ready for their next thankful companion.
The stick is gone. Long live the stick. A trusty companion for months, I am semi naked without it. A constant 'something's missing anxiety'. Phantom limb syndrome. Almost limpless, I am now almost normal. Which, irony or ironies, does have its drawbacks.
For while I can walk without a stick, for several blocks even, hills are not my forte. Nor are cobbles. And when you live in a world heritage city, this is a serious disadvantage. There is no iPhone application yet that route plans for these eventualities. Not that I have an iPhone. But I would if such an application existed.
And with the stick, goes the sympathy. And the generosity. Strangers pushing past me now don't know that if I stumble, I'll probably fall. Bus drivers take off before I have got to my seat. And car drivers rev in frustration as I troop slowly over crossings. And the chats I used to have with other people with sticks. (There's a whole stick community out there which you just don't see if you don't have a stick yourself.)
And I am slow. Terribly slow. With funny little short steps to avoid putting too much pressure on my knee. But this will improve. In four weeks I will be back on my bike. My knee will be strong enough to start impact work (that's physio-talk for running). And my two trusty sticks will be returned to St Johns - ready for their next thankful companion.
No comments:
Post a Comment