What has four legs and goes painfully slowly?
Yep, that’s right. Me. I’ve succumbed. I’m using my other leg.
(They come in pairs. I’ve been steadfastly refusing to use both, that’s just ostentatious. I’d been keeping the other one for ‘spare’ and training Husband to forget all about it).
It started back in the winter when I had to go out in the snow, I knew that I couldn’t manage with just the one additional leg so I reluctantly gave way to my practical side and took out the extra one. You see when I first started out with the dreaded leg, one was a good place as any to start. (In other words, one was bad enough). And when you’re just using it to ‘guide’ you then it’s fine but if things don’t get any better (in other words, get worse) then actually the one extra leg causes balance problems. It’s very hard, and dangerous, leaning all your weight in one direction and that was why, when faced with snow and ice, I had to make the sensible, mature decision that I needed to balance myself out.
(I often recognise the need for balance, metaphorically especially, but I’m not so good at addressing the need and doing something about it. I don’t always like to face reality and sometimes I just don’t have a clue what to do about it).
Even though the snow went away, the extra leg didn’t.
For short hops in other people’s cars, of course I gladly leave the fourth one behind but it keeps joining me more and more on more and more occasions.
It’s handy having both; I don’t list so much any more. In fact if I try to be optimistic (in a wry sort of way at least), there are even perks. For example, when I do want to be emphatic, I can use one for gesturing and articulating whilst still holding myself steady on the other one. At times the steady ‘clunk’ of my extra legs’ feet makes me feel a little more solid or even entertains me. (I especially appreciate the robotic, probably arachnid, monster from the films footsteps that I can make going over the footbridge. But then sometimes I don’t even have the energy to clunk enthusiastically). Sticks are great for drawing pictures in the sand and like gesturing, I can lean on one and express myself with the other. I’d really love to be able to swing myself up on my legs but as arm strength has never been available to me (I’ve never mastered the monkey bars unless my feet can reach the floor) and definitely isn’t any more, I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. Sadly. (I also don’t think the legs are of suitable build to take such gymnastics either).
However uncomfortable I am about my need for these legs (which is why I make as many jokes about them as possible), I’ve kind of got used to it again, Like any change, you resist for a while but you slowly adapt. Maybe even accept.
Because when I walked into the (new) dentist who went:
‘Oh my goodness, what happened to you?!’
I started looking around myself, trying to discover what disaster had unknowingly befallen me on the way there. I hadn’t noticed anything, Husband hadn’t said anything. What on earth had happened?!
I obviously looked confused because he expounded:
‘Your leg, have you hurt it?’
Obligingly, I examined my legs to see if blood or something was pouring from them. (I would have hoped I’d notice something like that). Then it dawned on me.
‘Oh my legs!’
I gestured, wriggling them helpfully in his direction. I grinned.
‘No, that’s just normal.’
I’m getting used to having four legs.
Four-wheeled drive, it’s all the rage isn’t it?