Gravity Sucks!!!

I'd like to confess to you, my Fellow Patriots, that I never concerned myself with gravity when I was 15.  Or 25.  Or 40, even.

But as I've succeeded in living longer than a White male is supposed to live, I've discovered that gravity has been taking a toll on my life.  Along with aches and pains.  

And by "gravity," I mean, that mysterious force which makes it almost impossible to now get up off my ass.  And keeps me from picking up anything off the floor smaller than a $20.  And to keep my balance whilst trying to walk.  And I do mean, trying!  

I had to use a cane after my 3rd spinal fusion.  That was in '10.  But I still ambled along at a pretty fair pace anyway.  But when the 4th and 5th back surgeries came along, I needed TWO canes to venture from "A" to "B."  And I do mean venture.

I would introduce my bright purple canes to people with a nice "Purple cane, purple cane" ditty.  I tried to foil Ol' Man Gravity by making fun of him.  A thinly-disguised effort, I must say.  Even telling others that walking with two canes is fine!  Normal, even.  And that I'm not ready to spring for a walker.  You know, those clunky-looking contraptions used exclusively by "old people."  "I'd have to turn in my man-card," I would say.  But that decades long wrestling match with the Ol' Man has resulted in the Ol' Man now winning.  I just sprung for a walker.  

Even though it will hopefully permit me to venture out more often, maybe even a restaurant on occasion, and likely serve as an insurance policy against falls, I still feel sort of funny taking it out in public.  That's because I'm a 25 year-old guy held hostage by an octegenarian.  But embracing reality now proves necessary.  And so I have.

Oh yeah, the walker's a bright purple...