Walking Away

Just over six months ago I walked into the Red Cross on my dad's arm. I had a physiotherapist's requisition for a walker, shower chair and one other thing that I can't remember (either raised toilet seat or wheelchair). Awkwardly I admitted that the equipment was for me (and not my dad). I only accepted the walker as my pride couldn't stand the thought of needing the other two pieces of equipment at that time. My dad, overcome with emotion, stepped out while I was finishing up the paperwork (After all, it's not very often that you drive your 35 year old daughter to get a walker). 

When I was finished and since he'd managed to park in the farthest parking space, my dad tried to help me by pushing the walker out to the vehicle. I had to sadly remind him that the reason why we got it was to help me walk.

From there we went to Costco and all of a sudden my cancer (which had been really easy to "hide" in the past) became very visible. I received curious, pitying looks from older people. Younger kids stared. I was almost hit by a number of carts and always seemed to be in the way. People would tail me and then whiz by me as they were in a rush. Although I didn't look sick, my walker and my lack of speed walking drew much attention (well, it felt that way anyway) especially when I didn't seem to walk fast enough for drivers at crosswalks.

For the next while we struggled to fit a walker and stroller into our vehicle (it even travelled with us on our trip to Europe). If it was only a shorter distance I'd just hold onto my husband's arm. I felt much less conspicuous with the stroller and so I'd try to push our boy in his stroller.

Today we went back to the Red Cross. My sparkly cobalt blue walker went back to its home to help others. I may need it again someday far in the future... but for today, I'm ok and I'm walking away. 

My boy & my walker (when I was in hospital in April)