I'm hurting today, y'all.  Since I was tortured at age 15 by a military death squad when I was a missionary kid overseas, I've had deteriorating health.  Compounded has been that a psychiatrist who meant well overprescribed Seroquel to me in 2009, and I got permanent kidney damage.  Neuropathy followed, and nerves in my legs have died steadily until I have no feeling in them from the knees to my toes.  I manage to walk, though, but I have to use a cane.

I had to retire early at 63 because of my health problems, and I couldn't afford to retire in the USA on the cut in Social Security benefits retiring before age 65 meant for me.  I found a way to afford retirement, though, by moving to Mexico, where the cost of living  is cheaper.  Since I learned Spanish as a missionary kid, I'm equipped for being an old gringo in Mexico.

Since retiring here last year, I've made a lot of Mexican friends of all ages, some younger than me.  One of them, Mauricio, is only 27 years old, but we had a great time traveling to Guatemala together on his vacation.

However, today I found out that not all of my young friends are friends to my face.  I found out something second hand from a reliable source that a young Mexico lady named Jackie who enjoyed my hospitality last week when I invited her and some friends out for dinner together.  It turns out that to my face Jackie is friendly--and I do mean just friends, mind you--but that behind my back she says my walking with a cane is pathetic and that it gives her the creeps.

Jackie hit me where it hurts, because I did physical therapy twice for six weeks at a time at my local hospital in the USA just to work hard enough to get out of a wheel chair and learn to walk with a cane.  The first time I did physical therapy, I didn't make it to my goal.  So I signed up and did it all over again, until I could get out of that wheelchair and walk with a cane.

I hoped some day I'd get rid of the cane, too, but my balance isn't good enough.  When I tried it one day downtown recently, I felt right on my face on the sidewalk in front of everybody.  So I'm resigned to needing the cane, but glad I'm not in a wheelchair any more. 

It really killed me, then, that today when I invited the gang to dinner again Jackie refused to come along because I walk on a cane.  I couldn't believe somebody would be so petty and disrespectful to an old man, especially here in old Mexico, but that's what she did.  I canceled going out, I was so upset.  It's not something I can do anything about, I need the cane.

I got to wondering how many of my younger friends might feel like Jackie behind my back while saying differently to my face.  It really rocked my self confidence in my recovery I worked on so hard in repeating physical therapy to get this far.

I'm havig a crisis over this, so thoughts welome.