Who The Heck...?

I have said that this disease is a series of small losses, and the odd big one. Well, that's true, but sometimes the losses have nothing to do with the disease and everything to do with my own self. Yesterday I drove to work; I can still drive and I treasure that freedom. So I got into my truck, picked up my brother on the way to the office, drove through downtown and into the parking garage at work.

Once there, I parked and got out of my truck. Using the side of the truck to steady myself, I unloaded my wheelchair. It was then that I noticed that my wheelchair cushion was on the other side of the back seat of the truck. So I grabbed my cane from the front seat and used it to pull the cushion across the back seat of the truck and over to where I was setting up my wheelchair.

And that's the last time I can remember seeing my cane.

How the hell do you lose a cane? I mean, it's an essential piece of my personal gear. I cannot walk without it. It is something that has become a critical part of my mobility. So what the heck did I do with it?

I didn't notice this misplacement until the end of the day when I drove home. Perhaps it is a function of where I am with the wheelchair these days. I no longer use my cane at the office; I wheel everywhere these days. I no longer walk to the washroom or the coffee shop; it's simply too far. Nor do I use the cane to get out of my wheelchair during the day; I just stand up and stretch without walking. Without the chair it's just too much. The only thing I really use the cane for in the office is as a lance to punch the door opener buttons while riding my chair like a steed, a knight of ancient days tilting at windmills.

I didn't even notice the loss when I got into the truck. I noticed right away that I had left my cell phones (yes, I have two of them) on my desk. I didn't notice as my brother went up to get my phones and I sat there in the building garage awaiting his return. I didn't notice on the drive home or when I dropped my brother off at his place.

In the end, I finally noticed my missing cane when I went to get out of the truck after parking in the garage in my apartment building. Then, as I went to get out, where I actually use my cane to get from the truck to my apartment, I suddenly found myself caneless.

What to do? What to do? I called my son on his cell phone and asked him to bring my walker down to me. I don't like to use the walker outside the kitchen in my apartment. I don't trust that thing; it moves faster than I do and sometimes I find myself moving too quickly in spite of myself. So, walker in front of me and Ricky beside me, I made my way up to my apartment.

Getting around inside the apartment was a hassle. Rick and I decided to wait until today at work to see if I could find my cane. He is going to walk me down to the truck this morning and return my walker once I am firmly ensconced in my truck. When I get to work I will see if I had it at my desk and simply forgot it there. If, somehow, some way, I left it somewhere, never to be found again, I guess I will have to buy a new cane.

Who the heck loses a cane?