31/05/2026
Adjusting back to “cane life” takes so much more effort and concentration than you might expect.
Not only is there nobody around to share the load, but that effortless flow through busy spaces — weaving around people, bins and bollards without really thinking about it — is no longer an option.
For now, I have to accept that this bumper-car of a cane is my way of navigating the world. Instead of naturally avoiding obstacles, I’m actively sweeping for them. The things I once instinctively moved around have become my points of reference.
It’s impossible to completely switch off when using a cane. You’re constantly listening for changes in surface, feeling for the dramatic drop of a kerb, or noticing the subtle incline that tells you a dropped kerb is nearby.
So how do you use all of that to board a train?
First, you take the arm of the member of staff standing beside you. Then you wait for the train to stop. Together, you walk towards the door and use the cane to find the platform edge.
With the cane resting on the edge, you position your feet carefully, your toes just over the drop. Then comes the tricky bit.
One hand holds your guide’s arm. The other holds your cane. You reach forward, searching for the grab handle, and then take a small leap of faith onto the train.
The whole process takes less than 30 seconds.
But in those 30 seconds there’s concentration, planning, trust, and more than a little courage.
For most people, it’s an ordinary part of the journey.
For me, it’s a reminder that we can all experience the same world very differently.
Altered View.
Same world. Different perspective.