Sgt. "Cane"

I went to the V.A. and complained about my feet hurting. I got an appointment to podiatry and then had a bunch of x-rays taken. Nothing happened for some time and when I went back to my team physician and complained again I was given an adjustable cane made out of aluminum tubing, and a couple of scripts: More tramadol and naproxen. At first I was angry, but started using the cane as a joke. I fell over it once and it took some practice to use it correctly. People got out of my way and treated me better too, -- a kind of trade-off to losing sex-appeal. It was a great prop for not having to stand around on aching feet; a great excuse to sit down.

People asked how I got my 'disability.' I never told them that I got shot because that was an accident and it usually doesn't bother me anymore. I say, "Injured on a work-detail" if I have to say anything. If people are too nosy I tell them a fishy story: "they trained me to watch radar-scopes and the sweep would go roundy-round all day long in this dark room. And I went outside feeling dizzy and saw this woman. And she was really something with this skirt to here. So I bent down to look up it. -- I fell and hurt myself. Later, when they said I was better they shipped me to a mountain and stuck me with the Security Force. Mostly I guarded this door with a pistol. A few times they made me a rifleman on the perimeter. I was real lucky. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing; and neither did anybody else...”  People nod their head and ask other foolish questions. The less you say the better.