Message From The Stick

As my family know,I hate having to use a walking stick while I await my knee replacement. I know it’s my pride more than anything else and I hate the way it has slowed me down….my knee, not the stick. It gets in the way.I have it tied to my wrist, but I still find myself tripping over it. And it still gets left behind in various places. Luckily it has not been “lost” I have given a  name to the way I feel “stick anxiety”First time out with it I actually fell off the kerb….not actually right down but it did shock me. The latest thing was yesterday when I got stuck before sitting down when the bus started to move, but I froze and could not move so I called to son no 2 who had already sat down to sit with me until the bus stopped and we moved to where we needed to be.

So I decided to put a story from my stick’s point of view…….in the way that Anna Sewell wrote Black Beauty” and what it was like to belong to the crazy pink-haired pensioner.

So here is the stick story.

“Hello, I am the walking stick that lives with the pink-haired pensioner at the moment. She has actually given me the name “Fido”….which is a stupid silly name… I am not a dog she is taking for a walk. I used to belong to a friend of hers who has given me a long loan….and for a  long time, I was left hanging on the bottom of the stairs hidden under a pile of coats.

Under pressure from friends and family, she started to take me along with her but she really did not have any idea which hand to use it in and to this day I feel she should have L plates on her back. She cannot decide which hand to carry it in, which leg to put forward and swaps over all the time….and I am sure that is what gets her into a muddle and even though she is not dizzy…..I get dizzy. Many a time she will just carry me. I see others of my ilk with their people and they do not seem as confused as my person. She walks with shoulders hunched, eyes on the ground and a pained miserable look on her face when she should be walking Head high, proud to be alive.

I have been left in many places in town…Post Office, W.H.Smiths, The Works, The wool shop, and various charity shops, but she remembers at the door out and comes back to collect. I have no idea why she tells me to “stay” when she hooks me anywhere.

I dream about having an owner who actually cares about me Who uses me to stride over hill and dale, walk along a river or down a leafy lane…but I stay with this pink-haired lady who I am sure uses me under duress.

She sometimes forgets to take me and says that she can walk quicker without me. When she has to take herself grocery shopping she will use the shopping trolley (another thing she hates to use) She will use that for support saying she would really get into a muddle to use me at the same time. I will not tell you what someone said “would it not be better to use a zimmer frame”….can anyone that knows me to see me like that with a book and my knitting in the space underneath!

So here I stay with this pink-haired pensioner until she tires of me or gives me back to the lady who lent me or replaces me with…what I do not know. And I will continue to try and stop her from falling over even though sometimes she calls me horrible names. Walking sticks have feelings too.

I have dedicated this story to Jean T …you know who you are. and you said it would be good…Thank you, Jean.