ROPEIK: Pimp cane chic

It’s been at least two weeks since crutches took over for a wheelchair as my main method of transportation, and over that period I’ve become steadily more mobile. Recent developments include cruising around the kitchen to make lunch, toddler-style, by holding onto counters, sliding things across the stove and haphazardly flinging plates onto the table. Surprisingly, this is what they teach you in occupational therapy, and it hasn’t resulted in disaster. Not yet, anyway. I’ve also been going down our basement steps, which involves a fair amount of flinging itself &- flinging one crutch down the stairs, flinging whatever I’m trying to carry up with me up the stairs, flinging myself onto the landing, etc. I guess it’s better than not being able to fling at all.

So the crutches have become a semi-permanent attachment to my body, and soon I might even graduate to forearm crutches (think Franklin D. Roosevelt), one crutch or a four-footed cane. It’s definitely way better than the wheelchair, and I’m coming to realize that certain concessions must be made. In spirit of cultivating a sort of “badass granny” persona, I’ve decided it’s time to start incorporating my mobility aids into my general look.

The first hurdle is how to carry things. This is a glaring problem that comes with crutches and one that I, of course, did not expect at all. I have a backpack, but that poses the threat of tipping me over backwards, and anyway it’s better to streamline. I’m now mentally designing crutch saddlebags or even a little tray I can attach to the front, cigarette girl-style. When I get a granny cart for groceries back at school, I’m considering trying to attach it to myself so I can pull it behind me as though I’m a sled dog. It seems somehow fitting, considering the weather prospects in Boston. Mush!

Then there’s the cane. I’ve come to terms with a cane being just a little bit legitimately awesome. There are many options for it as an accessory. According to one of my occupational therapists, a pediatric patient once had a cane with a finish she called “raspberry.” I could put streamers on the top, like on bike handlebars. To that end, I could even add a bell or a basket. It could be a clear Lucite cane with glitter inside &- Disco Cane. Most importantly, it could be Lucius Malfoy’s pimp cane. For this to be truly canon, it would have to have a wand inside, but I’ll settle for just the snake head.

Skinny jeans, unfortunately, are a casualty of this whole situation, because I have to wear a brace around my calf that doesn’t fit under or over. The brace also necessitates the wearing of enormous shoes that can unlace all the way. I’m not sure yet what I’ll do for snow boots &- maybe it’ll have to get back to the Eskimo thing, wherein I can wrap furs around my legs and feet and traipse home through the snow to my igloo. Maybe I’m getting a little carried away. (But actually, snowshoeing would probably be pretty possible.)

The most imminent consideration, though, is Halloween. As you may know, that weekend coincides with the Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert rallies on the National Mall, and seeing as I live five minutes from Washington, I’m planning to join my approximately gazillion friends who are coming home or into town from college to attend. This will probably be a moment for wheelchair crowd surfing.

Halloween is the night after, and after two college years of sort of winging my costume, I am set on taking full advantage of all my new hardware to make something incredible. In the wheelchair category, contenders include Dr. Strangelove, Stephen Hawking (inappropriate?) and an awesome Star Wars TIE fighter I found on the Internet that uses the wheelchair’s wheels as its wings. If I’m on crutches, I thought they might make good weaponry. Maybe a pterodactyl or a Transformer. Do you have any ideas? Please email me! I am not kidding!

Otherwise, I’ll just put on cat ears or something, and if we trick-or-treat, I’ll let the homeowners battle it out internally over my dual Halloween personality: way too old for trick-or-treating, but pathetic on crutches and clearly in need of candy. Maybe this was my plan all along.

It’s weird to imagine the next many months or even years not wearing high heels or pointy-toed shoes, to adapt to wearing a backpack around the house, to expand my concept of accessories to include a cane with sparkly paint. But if there’s one area in which I am motivated to be resilient, it’s lookin’ fresh. So adapt I will. Because as we all know, badass granny is the new black.