I started my walk at nine this morning, about five minutes after the city worker knocked on our door to let us know they were shutting off the water. This guaranteed that I would be good and sweaty by the time I had my physical therapist appointment.
The walk itself went well, I did a little over 0.9 miles. I stopped and took a couple of photos on the way. The neighborhood was full of flags because tomorrow is Veterans Day.
She asked, “Do you have your own walker now or do you still need one?”
“No. I stopped using the walker a few days ago, now I’m just using the cane.”
“So nobody goes with you?”
That’s when I realized what she meant. “Oh no, the walker is just the metal pipe thing people lean on, not a person.” I think she may be on to something marketable. I see a physical therapist to do my exercises and to learn more about them. Maybe it would be nice to also have someone walk along beside me and tell me how to be a better walker. They have dog walkers, why not curmudgeonly, post-surgical patient walkers?
Maybe not. Maybe a more cynical person would take this moment to point out that I’m already married, so I don’t need anyone else to walk beside me and tell me I’m not doing it right. But not me.