I was 10 years old and in the 4th grade when I got my first pair of glasses. The year was 1975 and they were wire rims with a hideous plastic nose piece. Expectedly the kids called me “Four Eyes” (highly insulting for that age), but since I was already terribly nearsighted it didn’t matter so much because I loved how much better I could see.
I’m 50 years old now, still wearing glasses, much nicer ones I might add, with both Progressive and Transition lenses. I managed to hide my visual disability with contact lenses for a couple of decades, but after my kids were born I was ready to not only embrace but celebrate my four eyes once again. My kids think I look funny without my glasses, the way my mom always looked to me without hers.
My poor eyesight is now the least of my problems.
I’ve had increasing difficulties with my left leg for several years now, and 18 months ago started using a cane, and then a single crutch, and then somewhat reluctantly, two crutches. I was always hopeful that these mobility aids would be temporary, and the fact that I moved slowly didn’t matter because someday I planned for all my leg problems to go away and be able to walk (and hike and backpack) with ease again.
And then last July I stumbled upon this:
“Find the proper tools and accept them. Don’t let them define who you are.”
To say the least, the crutches I had been using were far from proper: too big for me and rather heavy, they aggravated my existing shoulder problems and probably created a few more. Even though my insurance company denied my DME (Durable Medical Equipment) request – now under appeal – I went ahead and purchased the absolute best custom-made crutches in the world.
After dreaming about them for over four months, my carbon-fiber crutches with shock absorbers and articulating/rotating feet, finally arrived. They are beautiful, sleek and very cutting edge. I’m quite proud of them, the way a cyclist might be proud of a new, high-tech mountain bike. Within days I’d conquered a 1.5 mile hike through the hills. My new crutches are so much help on the trail that I now feel a little sorry for people with only two legs.
So go ahead, call me Four Legs. I won’t let it define who I am, and I’d be proud to share that moniker with our beloved four-legged friends. And since I already love how much better I'm moving, I’ll take it as a compliment.