Canes, yet again

[Guest guest]

A while back I posted a query about the use of canes after a THR,

especially for a relatively young patient (I'm 48). I was told by

the head of the surgical team that was originally scheduled to do my

surgery (as it turned out, I ended up at another hospital, but that's

another story) that I would not need a cane after the third month,

and was greatly looking forward to being able to walk again without

any orthopedic devices. I'd been on crutches for three years, and

aside from the inconvenience of having to use something for support

to walk with (and yes, I realize that being able to walk, even with a

cane, must seem like an incredible luxury to someone in a

wheelchair), my female vanity also played a part in making me feel

eager to be able to walk again on just my own two legs. As it has

panned out, however, the unoperated-on leg, which was iffy from the

start, has begun to deteriorate more rapidly than predicted, and the

use of a cane, at least for long forays into the outside world, has

become a necessity. I've spoken to numerous PTs and doctors about

using canes, and they almost all recommend it for every THR patient

(is this a Japanese eccentricity, or is it common in other countries

as well?). Aside from the hoary old argument that the cane can help

prevent wear-and-tear on the implant, several doctors have pointed

out to me that the cane is useful in that people (assuming they

notice it) tend to be more careful of their movements in your

presence if you have a cane and they realize you are not as mobile as

they are. This is particularly important in Tokyo, with its crowded

streets and busy public transportation system. Although, like

everyone else in this group, I wish I didn't have defective joints, I

am finding that the cane has its advantages. In the first place,

people do tend to give me a wide berth when passing me on the street

or in the station (although there are always those unobservant idiots

who manage to actually TRIP over it). Second, it's revealed to me

that there are more kind people in the world than I had thought (or

at least more people who wish to look kind in the eyes of others);

people often hold elevator doors open for me, etc. Finally, best of

all, I am almost guaranteed a seat on those crowded Tokyo trains,

especially if I stand in front of the " special seat " section for the

handicapped, the aged, the pregnant, etc., especially if I weave back

and forth unsteadily. Being able to sit makes a difference like that

between night and day when commuting. I can't say that I LIKE using

a cane, and when and if I am ever in possession of two more or less

pain-free and functional legs again, I hope to be able to go without

it, but for the time being I am resigned to using it, and see its

advantages. In fact, the other day when I was late in leaving the

house, I forgot to take my cane, and felt quite helpless without it --

not so much because of trouble walking, but because people were

pushing and shoving me and I felt I had no right to say, " Don't do

that, I've just had a THR! " I've also noticed, for the first time in

my life, how many people there are out there who use canes or other

devices to get around -- it certainly isn't just about me! I rather

wish, though, that they'd bring back the past, when all the stylish

gentlemen used canes as a fashion accessory. Sorry for the length of

this post, and for its rather abstract content. I've been reading

Mann's " The Magic Mountain " (in which, by the way, the hero

uses a cane as a fashion accessory), and I think I've become infected

(hmmm, maybe not the right word, considering that the book is about a

TB sanatorium) by his prolixity and tendency to digress. Please

forgive.

[Guest guest]

If it's a "cultural" thing that gives you the advantages you mention, that's different. Since I'm self-employed, working from home and driving to meet clients, the problem of public transportation never occurred to me. Even though I have a "Handicapped Discount" on public transportation, I almost never use it.

I can see, however, where a cane could come in handy under the circumstances you describe. Just remember that you're using it as much for "cosmetic" purposes as you are for functional ones... in other words, try not to develop a physical or emotional dependency on the cane-- recognize it for what it really is-- a subterfuge to gain you the rights you deserve anyway.

From: Joint Replacement [mailto:Joint Replacement ] On Behalf Of Albeit WidelySent: 19 February, 2006 12:00 PMJoint Replacement Subject: Canes, yet again

A while back I posted a query about the use of canes after a THR, especially for a relatively young patient (I'm 48). I was told by the head of the surgical team that was originally scheduled to do my surgery (as it turned out, I ended up at another hospital, but that's another story) that I would not need a cane after the third month, and was greatly looking forward to being able to walk again without any orthopedic devices. I'd been on crutches for three years, and aside from the inconvenience of having to use something for support to walk with (and yes, I realize that being able to walk, even with a cane, must seem like an incredible luxury to someone in a wheelchair), my female vanity also played a part in making me feel eager to be able to walk again on just my own two legs. As it has panned out, however, the unoperated-on leg, which was iffy from the start, has begun to deteriorate more rapidly than predicted, and the use of a cane, at least for long forays into the outside world, has become a necessity. I've spoken to numerous PTs and doctors about using canes, and they almost all recommend it for every THR patient (is this a Japanese eccentricity, or is it common in other countries as well?). Aside from the hoary old argument that the cane can help prevent wear-and-tear on the implant, several doctors have pointed out to me that the cane is useful in that people (assuming they notice it) tend to be more careful of their movements in your presence if you have a cane and they realize you are not as mobile as they are. This is particularly important in Tokyo, with its crowded streets and busy public transportation system. Although, like everyone else in this group, I wish I didn't have defective joints, I am finding that the cane has its advantages. In the first place, people do tend to give me a wide berth when passing me on the street or in the station (although there are always those unobservant idiots who manage to actually TRIP over it). Second, it's revealed to me that there are more kind people in the world than I had thought (or at least more people who wish to look kind in the eyes of others); people often hold elevator doors open for me, etc. Finally, best of all, I am almost guaranteed a seat on those crowded Tokyo trains, especially if I stand in front of the "special seat" section for the handicapped, the aged, the pregnant, etc., especially if I weave back and forth unsteadily. Being able to sit makes a difference like that between night and day when commuting. I can't say that I LIKE using a cane, and when and if I am ever in possession of two more or less pain-free and functional legs again, I hope to be able to go without it, but for the time being I am resigned to using it, and see its advantages. In fact, the other day when I was late in leaving the house, I forgot to take my cane, and felt quite helpless without it --not so much because of trouble walking, but because people were pushing and shoving me and I felt I had no right to say, "Don't do that, I've just had a THR!" I've also noticed, for the first time in my life, how many people there are out there who use canes or other devices to get around -- it certainly isn't just about me! I rather wish, though, that they'd bring back the past, when all the stylish gentlemen used canes as a fashion accessory. Sorry for the length of this post, and for its rather abstract content. I've been reading Mann's "The Magic Mountain" (in which, by the way, the hero uses a cane as a fashion accessory), and I think I've become infected (hmmm, maybe not the right word, considering that the book is about a TB sanatorium) by his prolixity and tendency to digress. Please forgive.