A Chance Encounter: Meeting Someone Like Me

It was one of those days. The kind where I felt the weight of my body a little more than usual, the kind where my cane was more than just a support—it was a lifeline. I was walking out of the restaurant, trying to enjoy the time with family, when I noticed her. She was beautiful and confident, walking with her own cane, moving with a quiet grace that caught my eye immediately.

We exchanged a glance, and without hesitation, she came over and asked about my cane with a warm smile. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, just a simple question that carried an understanding we both recognized instantly. I could tell from her eyes that she knew what it was like. She didn’t need to ask why I had a cane, and I didn’t feel the need to explain. We both agreed that if we were using the dang things, they better be gorgeous. It was one of those unspoken connections, a mutual understanding between two people who have been through their own battles.

We didn’t talk about our diagnoses. We didn’t compare notes on doctors or treatments. We didn’t need to. Instead, we talked about the good days and the bad days—how they come and go unpredictably, sometimes without warning. We both happened to be having a bad day at the same time, and there was something strangely comforting in knowing that I wasn’t alone in that moment.

Her confidence struck me, though. Despite her bad day, despite the obvious challenges we were both facing, she carried herself with a quiet strength. She wasn’t ashamed of her cane, and for the first time in a while, I didn’t feel self-conscious about mine either. We were just two people, walking our paths—separate, but somehow, for that brief moment, together.

It was a brief conversation, but it was enough to remind me of something I sometimes forget: I’m not alone. There are others out there who understand what it’s like to live with an unpredictable body, who know the struggle of balancing good days with bad ones. Meeting her reminded me that strength doesn’t always look like powering through without help. Sometimes, it looks like walking confidently with your cane, even when the day is hard.

As we parted ways, I felt a little lighter, even though the day itself hadn’t gotten easier. Sometimes, just knowing that someone else understands is enough. Meeting her was a reminder that, even on the bad days, there’s beauty and strength in the journey.

And as I walked away, I couldn’t help but smile.

Much love,

E.P.