Yay! O! Yay!

I’m walking with a cane today! Feeling brave, I briefly set aside the walker and the crutches, took a deep breath, and stepped out with the cane.

This cane:

made by Dad out of white oak and mesquite. The handle closely resembles the head of a human femur, since I was unsuccessful in aquiring mine own femur head, Dad fashioned one out of mesquite, a hard and very heavy wood most noted for making fabulous campfires.

It is remarkably comfortable. For some reason the contours fit my hand nicely, almost as if God meant for femur heads to do dual duty. The ball is a handy weapon as well. Imagine crossing me when I’m in a mood, and getting a whack on the noggin with that. I tried to get Dad to load the ball with lead shot, but no. He’d already glued everything in place.

Ohh…walking with a cane…it’s a milestone! It’s something to be celebrated because it’s tangible evidence that I’m healing.

And not a moment too soon, either. Last night I was so frustrated trying to do a simple chore that I threw something. “What’s wrong??” they all asked. “Leave me alone!” I shouted. “I’m sick of depending on everyone else!” I yelled. I know, childish behavior on my part, but I really was annoyed.

I’ll see Dr. S on the 7th. and I am excited that I’ll be able to walk into his office with a cane instead of the granny-walker.