You know those fancy aluminum walking sticks that look like ski poles?\u00a0 Okay, fine, like orthopedic canes?\u00a0 Well, I went out and bought myself a pair.<\/p>\n
My artificial hip makes it difficult for me to get enough weight-bearing exercise, and when I saw a few people using sticks around town, I realized this could be the perfect way for me to negotiate greater distances with less pain.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t consciously set out to neutralize the sticks\u2019 prosthetic connotation.\u00a0 It just happened:\u00a0 colorful muffler and beret, whimsical shoes, stylish sunglasses, a little lipstick.\u00a0 I delighted in my jaunty new vertical companions, which I\u2019d gotten in red.\u00a0 Every now and then, someone would stop me to ask about the sticks as if they were the latest fashion accessory.<\/p>\n
But a man passing me the other day in a motorized wheelchair wasn\u2019t fooled.\u00a0 \u201cThere\u2019s power in numbers,\u201d he remarked with a grin, having immediately pegged me as a fellow mobility-challenged person.\u00a0 Hmm.\u00a0 So much for cool sunglasses.<\/p>\n
So which is it?\u00a0 Sporty\u2014ski poles?\u00a0 Or impaired\u2014canes?\u00a0 Which is my true self?<\/p>\n
I know, I know, they both are.\u00a0 Still, I find the question intriguing, and not just in terms of physical mobility.<\/p>\n
As a writer, for example, I\u2019m drawn to dark and squirmy topics.\u00a0 I can\u2019t seem to change that any more than I can help having undergone total hip arthroplasty.\u00a0 Sure, I try to explore my subjects in an entertaining way, but I wouldn\u2019t bother to write if I weren\u2019t obsessed or haunted by something.\u00a0 Writing is far too much trouble for that.<\/p>\n
When I publish my work, I\u2019m hoping that the thorny content and the fun I\u2019ve had with it come across in equal measure.\u00a0 But I never know.<\/p>\n
\u201cI really enjoyed that one about your dad,\u201d one of my readers remarked\u2014following a column in which I mentioned my father\u2019s having been a batterer.\u00a0 \u201cYou write about stuff that\u2019s real,\u201d the person went on.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s easy to relate to.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a high compliment.\u00a0 I\u2019d been seen and accepted, and had made this reader feel connected.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve also had my share of excruciating kindness.\u00a0 \u201cThese columns must be so therapeutic<\/em> for you,\u201d gushed one person recently.\u00a0 Of course they\u2019re therapeutic, but it\u2019s humiliating to hear that from a reader.\u00a0 I thought about taking to bed and eating chocolates for a month or two.<\/p>\n But how much can I disguise my inner self?\u00a0 How much do I want to?\u00a0 If a reader, or a man in a wheelchair, feels my pain, does that mean I should change something?\u00a0 Or should I just keep at it, because the more \u201cout\u201d we are with our impairments and our differences, the more we can replace shame with connectedness?<\/p>\n I once heard this adage: what other people think of you, what they say about you behind your back, is none of your business.<\/p>\n I\u2019ll never be that<\/em> Zen, I thought.<\/p>\n Well, I\u2019m still not that Zen, but I am traveling greater distances with less pain.<\/p>\n Published in the Piedmont Post<\/em>, January 12, 2011<\/p>\n Please visit www.lisabravermoss.com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" You know those fancy aluminum walking sticks that look like ski poles?\u00a0 Okay, fine, like orthopedic canes?\u00a0 Well, I went out and bought myself a pair. My artificial hip makes it difficult for me to get enough weight-bearing exercise, and when I saw a few people using sticks around town, I realized this could be…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n