More Mama Modifications

So this arrived today:

cane

To you, it may just be a cane with a foot-base. But to me, this cane represents many aspects of my adapting to new challenges. It represents my letting go of pride and ego – it took me weeks to finally hush the voice inside my head that insisted I’d look like an old lady; it finally occurred to me that acquiring this type of cane would not turn my hair cloud-white, cause my shoulders to stoop or wrinkles to set creases along the planes of my face!!

This represents my acceptance that my body’s gotten a tad worse; balance is more difficult; walking can be precarious at times. And if my old cane fell while I was alone? Well, the challenges that caused me were well worth taking a closer look at my need for more efficient safety. There’s a grieving process that occurs each time my body presents me with new limitations. Breaking through the denial can be cumbersome and unpleasant. Yet, it’s necessary if I’m to continue living the life God’s blessed me with. Therefore, this cane (or any new mobility equipment) is symbolic of the respect and love I have of myself since I’m taking steps necessary to stay safe and well.

It’s not just me, however. There’s a wonderful, caring, funny, helpful, smart 5-year-old who’s become increasingly worried about me falling… and possibly dying. As many know from my previous blog post, my father passed away after falling in his home. My daughter knows I’m prone to falling and has connected his death with the possibility of mine. Lately, I’ve watched her struggle to contain her anxiety as she watches me walk about the house. She’s wanted to review the plan we have in place in case I do fall. We’ve practiced “dialing” 911 on the house phone and on my cell phone; what to say to the dispatcher; the fact that I may be taken away in an ambulance; whom she might stay with if I were to need overnight care for her. It’s been heartbreaking, as her mom, to need to keep reiterating that her grandfather and I have different illnesses; that mine will most likely never kill me; that I have great doctors who monitor me and I take my medicine; that even if I do fall, it doesn’t mean I’ll die, too. Telling her she doesn’t have to worry about me does little to alleviate her fears. Walking with an aid that keeps me more balanced and stable can do much more to relieve her stress.

To her, my cane represents less worry about her mom. It represents the ability to not have to agonize about emergency-plans. It symbolizes a more care-free, happier childhood for her. As a mom, that’s priceless and something I’d be willing to adapt to any modification for her to experience!!

For both my daughter and me, my new cane represents us moving forward in life – literally and figuratively. We are always adjusting, adapting and modifying our lives to fit with what my body can handle at any particular moment. As a parent, there’s a guilt that she’s being dragged along this path with me. Yet, I see it’s made her much more flexible, accommodating and accepting of changes that pop up in her world, from school to play dates. If you see us out-and-about, we’ll be walking a bit more slowly and much more carefully. But chances are, we will be quick to smile and share in the joys of life with you!! So, please stop and say hello… and don’t worry about me falling!!

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