You're So Brave!

Friends and acquaintances often remark on how brave/courageous/strong I am.

Last week I popped into a hair salon to get my hair re-shaved as five-o'clock shadow all over one's head is like sleeping on a bed of nails. The stylist chatted with me as she re-buzzed my head and told me how brave/courageous/strong I was and how she could never be like that. "Don't sell yourself so short," I said, "you have no idea what inner strength you have until it is needed. "

As I said to my friend Ian later, what choice do I have? Stay at home and have a boo-hoo pity party of one every day? My life may end up being shorter than I would like it to be, so why would I spend any time--more than what is beyond my current control--feeling sorry for myself? "I'm a dying woman! I can do whatever I want. How much fun is that!"

I did see a demonstration the other week though, of what I consider to be true courage. I was in my car going to a meeting downtown. I was waiting at an intersection, wanting to turn right and my attention was on a blind man walking with a cane, crossing in front of me. Suddenly he veered entirely out of the two white ped lines and started heading straight for a pole...he paused, still on the road, sensing that he was a bit off--and heart pounding--I started frantically looking around to see if someone was going to come with his aid. I placed my hand on the emergency brake, ready to jump out of the car if need be.

The light had turned green by this time and I started to turn right, almost driving into the back of another car as I kept watching in my rear-view mirror to confirm that this guy had made it safely across the street.

Now that is what I consider courageous...walking around the mean streets of downtown Vancouver--without sight--beckoning nefarious characters with the left-right-left swish of your neon white cane to come check out just how vulnerable you are.