Camouflage Cane

"This is my last card," I told my friend Ggie, who accompanied me to have special shoes made in Marikina (the city famous for shoe making in the Philippines).

I have tried everything to solve my grasping-toes problem: four doctors—specialist in bones, in muscles, in wellness, and in nerves. I also went through countless therapy sessions. I wore two left flip-flops.  I bought exercise gadgets, prescribed by my therapist, and an expensive brace. When someone mentioned  Apak-Apak, a magnetic stepping-mat invented by an enterprising man to ease aches and pains, I bought that too. 

Zilch.

So, my last card really was Marikina. The two pairs that I ordered (one formal and one casual) are made of the finest kid leather. They are so soft they pamper your feet when you put them on. But once I start walking, my toes, as usual, scream!

Walking cane. I knew this would help, but I am not prepared to use them—yet. Vanity gets in the way sometimes. Then Ggie told me there are canes that masquerade as umbrellas available in Divisoria (a Metro Manila district where goods are sold wholesale and therefore cheap).

Reluctantly, I said, okay. I'd buy them in all colors to match my outfits.

Before I could go to Divisoria, Ggie sends me four, tied in a red bow and with a birthday card. It wasn't yet my birthday, but hey, with a gift like this, who needs birthdays?

I call my new umbrella canes camouflage because, confidentially, they are unwanted at this point in my life (they stereotype ageing), but they are the grace that I need so I could walk a little better after two years, since this malady encroached upon my active life and put a stop to my daily walks at dawn.

Last cards are never the last.