Let’s repeat this early Odd Sock.  Enjoy..or wretch!

When I was diagnosed with MS, little did I know this chronic disease would require me to own more walking aids than Dr. Scholls.

I’m like the Inspector Gadget of mobility!

Having Multiple Sclerosis can be completely unpredictable.  One day, you get around fine but the next can be just the opposite—where you have trouble putting one foot in front of the other.  It can even vary hour to hour (I tend to morph into my lurching, Quasimoto shuffle each day between 4 and 8pm).

So we have equipment to make things easier.  In fact, I’m loaded for bear.  I have more equipment than a one-man band!

One Man Band

Me

I have a wheelchair.  I have a cane.  I have a handicap parking pass.  Not to mention, a leg brace and hand controls for my car.  Plus, I have been told I need a walker (but still resist), and those forearm crutches that make you walk like Buzz Adrin taking a clunky hike on the moon.

It has also been reccomended I get a “polar suit” to keep me cool in extreme heat.  All suited up I figure I’ll be a dead ringer for the robot from “Lost In Space.”  I’ll blend right in with the crowd–like a Fridgidare side-by-side strolling thru the park!

I know, I know, all that that stuff is used and has been advocated for my safety and well-being.  Improving the quality of life is the intended purpose.

The medical professionals working on my behalf and others in the same boat, don’t give a rat’s ass if some idiot makes a snide remark about my polar suit.

That idiot only wishes he was as cool as I am!

It was time to invest in a new cane.  My old one was a reliable partner, but it was beat-up and had alot of miles.

The shiny-new 2010 models were out, so I shuffle-dragged myself to the showroom.  I just love the new cane smell!

I was looking for a plain, black, non-descript cane.  The kind of cane that would allow me to enter a room silently, like a black panther.  (OK, who am I kidding—I walk like a black panther with three legs that have fallen asleep!)

The cane store had a huge selection.  I was confident I would find just what I was looking for.  But upon further investigation, I couldn’t find a black cane—not a white cane—or even one of those old-school silver canes!  No, every cane was bright & glittery and resembled a Jackson Pollack painting.  A Jerry Garcia acid-induced mind trip.  These canes were so loud they made Liberace seem lame.

Then, I saw a sign that explained it all…..

(Bleep)  Are you kidding me?  (Bleep)  “Life shouldn’t be dull and boring and neither should your cane.”  (Bleep)

I just want a plain, black cane!

“…zest for life.”  What is that about?  “Zest” is something I use in the shower!  (Bleep Bleep)

Look, my point is this, if you are 80 years old and stroll into the Legion Hall card party with one of these canes—that’s cute.  But I’m 46.  I shouldn’t be limping with a cane at all.  And I don’t want to call attention to myself with my fancy walking stick.  I want to blend into the room like a bad piece of wallpaper.

As a matter of fact, if DuPont made a wall paint called “Gimp,” I would smother myself with it—two coats!

The Funny Meter

Oh, go away “Funny Meter.”  Everything doesn’t have to be hilarious.  Geez, gimme a break.

The Funny Meter

Screw you “Funny Meter.”

Your father was a digital thermometer and your mother was a Richter Scale.

There, are you laughing now?

I can’t speak for everyone with MS, but we just want to blend in as best we can—with a plain, nondescript cane.  Not something inspired by the psychedelic 60’s.

Oh yeah, by the way, I found my cane at another store.  Happy walking!

Me & my new dancing partner.