The Pink Walking Stick
The pink walking stick stares at me resting next to the front door it's a reminder that my life has changed once again to chronic illness. I try not to let myself cry over my life and what I've lost due to the dizziness those tears are reserved for the safety of my doctor's office and psychologist's office where I can be vulnerable and be honest with myself. I rattle off the names of the various medical professionals I have seen along with all the medical tests I have had whenever someone asks me yet again if I have tried this thing. I don't pretend that I'm not complicated medically but I also hate unwanted medical advice. I tell people I have chronic health issues and leave it at that but now the walking stick opens up that door to more comments and the fact I can't pretend things are fine when they're not. My most recent neurologist appointment just over a month ago was a disaster and left me with more questions than answers. I was told I did have PP
