"Deciding To Use a Cane:
My Many Excuses Not To"

by Karri Thompson 



I was diagnosed with MS in November 2001 after five years of episodic dizziness and eye problems. “My goal is to keep you exactly the way you are today”, the neurologist said right after giving me
my diagnosis.

I smiled and agreed to keep his commandments with hope that my MS would stay on a mild course.

For the last 15 months, I have noticed a dramatic change in my symptoms. When I speak I sometimes mix the letters around and the words come out nonsensical. That’s embarrassing at times, but I pass it off as being in a hurry to speak so I don’t forget what I want to say. But when it comes to my balance, my gait, my dizziness, those are difficult to pass off as anything. Using the tired excuse of just being clumsy is becoming more and more difficult.

One day at work, I misjudged the distance of a step and I fell. My neurologist told me he wants me to start using my cane.

My fear of using a cane is that I think people will judge me negatively before they have the joy of getting to know me.

Being labeled as disabled is something I haven’t come to terms with yet. I know I have a disability and it’s not going away.

I know that I need to release my fear and put my needs first. I also know I need to be clearly identified in public that I have a disability in order to maintain my elbow room. A woman once pushed herself past me in a narrow aisle and knocked me down. Had I not been impacted by imbalance and gait disability, I most likely wouldn’t have fallen. Had I been using a cane, I most likely wouldn’t have fallen.

I struggle daily with making a decision about bringing my cane with me when I leave the house. I imagine that there are many more MS patients who have similar struggles, although I’m unaware of how they deal with that. My best friend who has progressive MS once said to me “I refuse to use a cane unless I absolutely have to.” I’m not sure if I’m at “have to” yet, and because she is so adamantly against using a cane herself, it gives me the strong message that I won’t easily be accepted by people I meet.

I haven’t fallen since that day at work just a few months ago, but whenever necessary I hug the walls in the hallway and hang on to the handrail with my dear life when I walk down the stairs. Some people say my best friend is in denial. Maybe I’m in denial, too. Maybe if I play along as though everything is just fine, people won’t notice that my MS has gotten worse.


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