Ok, ok, here I come! Grab the kids and get the heck out of the way! Large wandering, poor sighted billy goat with cane smacking tendencies approaching! Hard a port! Starboard side! Battlestations! Battlestations! Dive! Dive! Dive!
I always wanted to type that stuff. Smile.
Some times I feel like a large cargo ship, coming in through the outer banks, or the sounds, or the bay, floating aimlessly, looking for somewhere to port. Looking for a tugboat to tie onto and lead me in through the narrows. Looking for a visual cue that would pin point my exact location, so that I can update my internal mapping system. Some familiar hint of a silhouette, or an outline of a door, or the faint glow of a window, or the dull shimmer of a steel handrail. Anything that would shout out, “Hey! I’m over here!” All I usually need is just one, small, little, miniscule tad of a facsimile of a shard of a clue. That’s it. That’s all I need. Nothing more, nothing less.
I’m ok around my house. I know where most everything is. I know what to kick, what to bump into, what to knock over, and what to slam into. I feel right at home when I kick the dog ramp, or trip over a dog toy, or hunt for the top step, or search for a door knob. It’s all home, and it’s all mine. I never use my cane when I’m around the house, inside or outside. My wife wonders why, and for the life of me, I can’t really tell her why, because I’m not really sure myself. I suppose it’s a male thing. My home! My castle! Really? I mean, really? Typical male stubbornness? Probably.
I guess that when I am around home, and I get into my normal daily routines, I tend to sometimes forget that I can’t see to well. Too well? Hell, I can’t see too good either. Fact is, I can’t see much of anything. But when I am up and about, around the home, I tend to not remember some times that I need to use my cane everywhere else. I tend to forget that without my cane, outside the home, I am pretty much, completely blind. I forget all of that crap, and my cane is a million miles away. Even when I am walking the dog out back, I would rather stop and send up mental flares, or patiently wait for a car to go by to reset my bearings, then use my cane. I would rather stand outside in the rain, hunting for a visual cue of any size or shape that would guide me back to the house, than run around my back yard with a white stick.
A friend of mine, jokingly, said that people of sophistication, call it a cane. They never use the word “stick”.
I got your stick, right over here honey! Smile again.
No, really, it is a manifested male ego swell, manufactured out of sheer little boy pride that would, and will, eventually, I am sure, lead me towards a cliff somewhere.
That doesn’t matter though. All of the variables and unknowns and around the next corners, just out of sight’s, they don’t matter when I am home. None of the uncertainties matter, and as a matter of fact, they just seem to clog things up, and get in the way.
I am still trying to convince myself that I do not need a cane, and that I can see just fine. Most times, my memories fill in what I can’t see, and I think that they trick me into believing that what I am imagining is actually what I am seeing. A made up reality of past recollections and stored data that takes shape and presents itself in an orderly fashion. For the most part, I actually believe what I am seeing, and use it to the best of my ability. It’s turned and bit me on the ass a few times, and I usually end up calling myself a handful of wonderful names, but then I turn right around and pull the reels of film back out and reload the projector.
I always did love a good movie. Especially the ones with a twist to them.
I suppose I will hang on to my manufactured independence around the house as long as I can. I suppose also, that there will come a time when I will be able to totally accept my “condition”. Somewhere out there, a lady that I know just read that word, and is cringing, along with calling me a few names of her own. Using the word “condition” slams me into a category that reflects on nothing more than being what the condition states, and nothing else. No relevance. No unchartered waters. No around the next corners. Just me and my condition.
I don’t want to be limited to the rules of the condition. I don’t want to be hampered with limits and boundaries of the condition. I don’t want to be labeled by the name tags of the condition. I am unconditionally, non conditional. Man, that’s a mouthful.
My cane, I suppose, represents the “condition”, and I am very afraid that I might find myself in the same long line, with all of the other ‘Conditionally’ inflicted, which would put, for the most part, and end to my typical male independent state of mind.
Man, if there was ever anything I did that was for the better, it would be to finally be able to put my misguided male ego to rest. I think nothing gets in the way, at times, more than that. Over inflated, swelled beyond recognition, over used and totally abused. You women must look at us dude fellas sometimes and just shake your head. Giggling under your breath right now, aren’t you? It’s ok; you can go ahead and laugh out loud. It ain’t gonna matter much, cuz we’re just gonna go ahead and do it anyway. Too much damn typical male patterning going on! Is patterning a word?
I need my cane. I don’t like my cane. I depend on my cane. I hate my cane. I realized the other day that if we leave the house, and I am in the car, if my cane is on the floor at my feet, I get a comfortable feeling of being able to handle whatever comes down the road. How can I hate something that brings such comfort to me? I don’t like to have to rely on it, but I am glad I can. I am in a constant tug of war with this blind thing. I am desperately clinging tightly to what ever I can muster up of my vision with one hand, while I reluctantly clutch my cane with the other. I continue to subconsciously tell myself that I an not blind. I continue to, blah, blah, blah.
Through it all, I continue to be blessed every day. I continue to focus on the things I have in my life. I continue to struggle with it all, but I do manage to keep on continuing.
Well, here I go, off on another tangent that was totally unpredictable. I guess I’ll take my tangent, and run with it.
Probably better take my cane with me.