When Harry Met Candy

Candy didn't like Harry one little bit. 

I've grudgingly come to realize that there probably will be an ongoing need for a cane in my life. Not every day. Not all the time. But when my inflamed bursa in my hip acts up, or my inner ear gets cranky and makes my sense of balance all wonky, I just need to get over myself and use a cane.

I was at the community pool last week and while I was changing, a woman approximately my age came in and sat on the bench next to me. She also had a cane, so we exchanged smiles and names and diagnoses.

We cane people are friendly like that.

My new swim pal was sporting a nifty sleek black cane. I immediately coveted it.

That's a cool cane. Where did you get it?

"Oh, I ordered it online. I like it because the three points on the bottom make it more stable, and it folds up really easily so that it's much more compact when you want to take it on a bus, or in a church pew or," and here she gave it a quick snap, collapsed it into a third of it's original length, and tossed it into her locker, "when you're late to your swimming class and all of the big lockers are gone!"

I was at my computer within minutes of arriving home doing a search for Hurry Canes. Turns out you can buy them almost anywhere that sells medical supplies like canes, crutches, and walkers. I chose the Hurry Cane brand because I had a chance to see it in person, but I did notice that there were several other models from various manufacturers that looked very similar.

I love the Buy It Now button on Amazon.

So my new cane arrived yesterday and I gave it a thorough test drive. The first thing that I noticed was that this thing was definitely masculine. So I gave him a boy name: Harry the Hurry Cane. Harry was easily adjusted to the correct height, he's amazingly stable, and I really like the fact that he's an unobtrusive shade of black. With a twist of the handle, he can also stand up all by himself.

Spiff.

The three point base on this thing does increase my sense of stability when walking with it, but the base is smaller and less clunky than the traditional four-point canes.

Candy was miffed. "What's with the new kid on the block?" she snapped.

Candy, girl. I've to to tell you the unvarnished truth here. You're....shiny. And unwieldy.  You failed me big time when I was hanging on to you and we crashed face first onto the concrete garage floor. I just need a cane that doesn't scream orthopedic or geriatric when it's seen, and is more flexible and stable.

"I'm not cool enough for you. I see how it is."

Yeah. Candy will have to pout for awhile. I'll keep her as a back up, but for now she's retired. Hope she likes living in my closet. Sorry, girl.