Walk With A Cane, My Son...

When I was a younger man I relished being a martial artist. I’m a multiple black-belt and an instructor in the traditional weapons of ancient Japan and Korea.
 
Unfortunately, the aging body does not hold up well to the pounding of hard-style martial arts, and years of kicking one’s way through boards, cement blocks and into heavy bags filled with lead take a toll. Usually one retires from this sort of thing in one’s 50s and switches over to something less damaging on the joints--one of the wrestling styles like Judo or Jiu-Jitsu, or one of the classical weapons.
 
That’s what I did. I stopped teaching and karate training at the age of 52, and turned my attention to my favorite tool--the classical sword. I’m good at it and work out with one of my large blades pretty much every day.
 
But I did not escape damage completely. My knees have taken on one cement block too many and occasionally I’ll do something that will inflame the knee tendons. Usually it’s no big deal. I wear a brace under my clothes for a few weeks and everything settles back down.
 
But this time it didn’t, and the pain went off the scale. A quick medical exam later the diagnosis was back, and no surprise--severe tendonitis. The treatment is rest, ice and lots of steroids to calm down the inflammation. I must have done something foolish without realizing it that badly wrenched the knee.
 
The treatment’s working and I’ll be fine. But for the next week or two I walk with a cane.
 
I have a beautiful cane. There is a martial artist (Grandmaster Mark Shuey) who calls himself the “Canemaster” and he makes gorgeous canes for senior practitioners that are considered tournament grade martial arts tools in their own right (the Koreans often fought with special canes).
 
Mine is of Hickory Heartwood, one of the toughest woods on earth. The crook is cut like a snake head and he inserted small gems for eyes. There are gripping points where you hold the cane to pull an opponent’s feet out from under him, or to use it to strike. There’s even a set of “shark teeth” that you can rake over a bony limb to take a large person down.
 
It’s engraved with my initials, my patron animal (the Lion) and is signed and dated by the Canemaster. I’ve always loved it and find it very helpful now to get around.
 
He only makes this style of cane for serious martial artists who have some rank. That used to be a source of some pride. Then I realized that he makes them for us because we all end up with bad knees.
 
No one mentioned that.