August 12, 2025 – Inspired by Cardie Agnes Cardoni’s strength and resilience, I got myself a walker! 🥳💪
On her Cardie Profile, Agnes had commented, “Despite multiple mobility issues, I had fought getting a chair lift installed at home. Finally, I accepted the reality that — if I didn’t do something — I would never see our second floor again! Last week, my chair lift was installed, and I am so grateful for it that I’ve sent the installer a Cardthartic card of thankfulness.”
I’m sending Agnes my own note of thanks because — after accepting the reality that hip replacement surgery has been postponed until God-only-knows when — I wanted to feel strong, safe, and not sorry. And what a difference that device has made to my comfort, mobility, stability, and confidence. Rather than inching through rooms by hanging on to the walls and furniture, I’m back to whipping around at warp speed!
When I wheeled into my orthopedic surgeon’s office, with a surprised smile, he said, “Smart move!” At an otherwise healthy 70, I began to explain, “Even though I know my bones are strong, I wanted this for balance,” and he cut in with, “Having strong bones doesn’t mean they won’t break if you fall. Just ask the 27-year-old who was in here an hour ago!”
It’s been interesting to note people’s reactions. In my dentist’s office, the receptionist who has welcomed me for years this time blurted, “What’s with the walker?!” One of my three pushing-90 neighbors said she wished her husband would get one, “But, no, he’d rather hang on me!” And the whole experience has brought up lots of sweet “walker memories,” from getting my feisty mom hers at 80, then for our great Hannlis at 95, and one for beautiful Pamela when Parkinson’s took her elegant gait at 78.
Mom was raised by a maiden aunt who broke her hip at 92, and my whole life, I heard my mother refer to that as “The Beginning of the End.” So after her own break at 80, Mom was taking no chances; she relied on that walker. And she did as she was wont to do: In places like the post office, where folks stood grumbling about having to stand in the long line, you’d think she was Maggie Smith playing Downton Abbey’s dowager countess, perched there on her rolling throne, smiling like a cat who ate the canary.
Hannlis had been a physical therapist until 75 when her whippet-thin frame could no longer support patients who were often twice her size, so she knew the benefit of walkers well. There was the time here on Miami Beach that we were anticipating a direct hit by Hurricane Dorian. And Hannlis — oooh, our Hannlis — sauntered up just as I was unloading cases of bottled water from the car. Ha! Hannlis showed me what versatile little devices walkers are that day.
At 96, this Cardie Oma advised, “Until you accept your circumstances, you’ll feel unhappy. What’s key is accepting the truth of your condition and then finding new ways of doing the things you have always done. For example, some people won’t accept that they would benefit from using a walker. They say, ‘It will make me look old!’ When I hear that, my first thought as a career physical therapist is always, ‘But you need it, and it’s too bad you won’t accept that because using a walker would allow you to walk on your own just a little longer.’ To me, independence is the basic idea of life,” she said, “so I advise doing things on your own just as long as you are able. Every day I tell myself to do as much as I can — no more and no less.”
Relying on a walker was a much harder pill for Pamela to swallow, gorgeous Miss Moneypenny that she once was to dashing Sean Connery’s James Bond. Talented Pam had made her living being vibrant and beautiful and endlessly self-reliant, so walkers were not in her wheelhouse. It took her a few years to embrace it, but finally came the day that she called, and with her beguiling British accent, said, “I’ve spent the weekend shooing 200-plus harmless yet uninvited bees out of the house and found that I’ve become quite good at leaning on the walker while using two hands to fan four chiffon scarves at a time!”
Even more than providing stability and mobility, I’ve found the blessing in this walker to be the feeling that — every time my hands touch the handles — those three strong women come stand next to me. I find myself throwing my shoulders back and straightening my spine as I saw them proudly do so many times.
Just as the card says of pussy willows, and surely describes passed and present friends you admire as well, “They symbolize hope and resilience. How do they make it through the harshest of winters and, come springtime, be the first to bloom? By being as strong as they are gentle, sticking together, standing tall.”
Through that walker, every day now I feel their energy, pressing me forward, their reassuring whispers saying, “With you all the way.”
Jodee Stevens
Founder & Chief Creative
August 12, 2025 – Inspired by Cardie Agnes Cardoni’s strength and resilience, I got myself a walker! 🥳💪
On her Cardie Profile, Agnes had commented, “Despite multiple mobility issues, I had fought getting a chair lift installed at home. Finally, I accepted the reality that — if I didn’t do something — I would never see our second floor again! Last week, my chair lift was installed, and I am so grateful for it that I’ve sent the installer a Cardthartic card of thankfulness.”
I’m sending Agnes my own note of thanks because — after accepting the reality that hip replacement surgery has been postponed until God-only-knows when — I wanted to feel strong, safe, and not sorry. And what a difference that device has made to my comfort, mobility, stability, and confidence. Rather than inching through rooms by hanging on to the walls and furniture, I’m back to whipping around at warp speed!
When I wheeled into my orthopedic surgeon’s office, with a surprised smile, he said, “Smart move!” At an otherwise healthy 70, I began to explain, “Even though I know my bones are strong, I wanted this for balance,” and he cut in with, “Having strong bones doesn’t mean they won’t break if you fall. Just ask the 27-year-old who was in here an hour ago!”
It’s been interesting to note people’s reactions. In my dentist’s office, the receptionist who has welcomed me for years this time blurted, “What’s with the walker?!” One of my three pushing-90 neighbors said she wished her husband would get one, “But, no, he’d rather hang on me!” And the whole experience has brought up lots of sweet “walker memories,” from getting my feisty mom hers at 80, then for our great Hannlis at 95, and one for beautiful Pamela when Parkinson’s took her elegant gait at 78.
Mom was raised by a maiden aunt who broke her hip at 92, and my whole life, I heard my mother refer to that as “The Beginning of the End.” So after her own break at 80, Mom was taking no chances; she relied on that walker. And she did as she was wont to do: In places like the post office, where folks stood grumbling about having to stand in the long line, you’d think she was Maggie Smith playing Downton Abbey’s dowager countess, perched there on her rolling throne, smiling like a cat who ate the canary.
Hannlis had been a physical therapist until 75 when her whippet-thin frame could no longer support patients who were often twice her size, so she knew the benefit of walkers well. There was the time here on Miami Beach that we were anticipating a direct hit by Hurricane Dorian. And Hannlis — oooh, our Hannlis — sauntered up just as I was unloading cases of bottled water from the car. Ha! Hannlis showed me what versatile little devices walkers are that day.
At 96, this Cardie Oma advised, “Until you accept your circumstances, you’ll feel unhappy. What’s key is accepting the truth of your condition and then finding new ways of doing the things you have always done. For example, some people won’t accept that they would benefit from using a walker. They say, ‘It will make me look old!’ When I hear that, my first thought as a career physical therapist is always, ‘But you need it, and it’s too bad you won’t accept that because using a walker would allow you to walk on your own just a little longer.’ To me, independence is the basic idea of life,” she said, “so I advise doing things on your own just as long as you are able. Every day I tell myself to do as much as I can — no more and no less.”
Relying on a walker was a much harder pill for Pamela to swallow, gorgeous Miss Moneypenny that she once was to dashing Sean Connery’s James Bond. Talented Pam had made her living being vibrant and beautiful and endlessly self-reliant, so walkers were not in her wheelhouse. It took her a few years to embrace it, but finally came the day that she called, and with her beguiling British accent, said, “I’ve spent the weekend shooing 200-plus harmless yet uninvited bees out of the house and found that I’ve become quite good at leaning on the walker while using two hands to fan four chiffon scarves at a time!”
Even more than providing stability and mobility, I’ve found the blessing in this walker to be the feeling that — every time my hands touch the handles — those three strong women come stand next to me. I find myself throwing my shoulders back and straightening my spine as I saw them proudly do so many times.
Just as the card says of pussy willows, and surely describes passed and present friends you admire as well, “They symbolize hope and resilience. How do they make it through the harshest of winters and, come springtime, be the first to bloom? By being as strong as they are gentle, sticking together, standing tall.”
Through that walker, every day now I feel their energy, pressing me forward, their reassuring whispers saying, “With you all the way.”
Jodee Stevens
Founder & Chief Creative
THANK YOU for this edition of my Cardie Newsletter… I will print, save and share it!
We all need a little help to support our bodies as life throws curve balls our way. For me it is a si-joint belt from http://www.serola.net/product/serola-sacroiliac-belt/. I wear it when I am doing gardening. Without that support I would have back pain for days. For others a little support from a walker keeps us moving forward. Whatever it takes … carry on my friend. Love you
Jodee, kudos to you for realizing the need for the walker, embracing it & sharing that with all of us. We should be proud that we’ve made it so far & not embarrassed that we might need an assist. We’re so proud of you.
I am so grateful that my story of the stair chairlift resonated and helped others. That business of “acceptance” can be tough, for sure, but it’s freeing, too. I want everyone to know that I use a cane to get around. But I have a walker with balloon tires for our annual trip to the beach, and I have a “rollater” for longer shopping–like to the bookstore! (The kind of walker with a seat)
I must also tell you how great the “Oy!” card is for taking the edge off potentially hard news. I had to share info about yet another foot surgery for my husband, with someone far away. That card will, I trust, prevent panic. So grateful to have it in my stash!
Blessings,
Agnes Cardoni
So inspirational! I forwarded this to my neighbor, who at 85 just broke her femur and is itching to get back to her walking routine (despite two past knee replacements). And I’m thinking of a lady I know who is nearing 100 and can move at a very impressive rate of speed with a walker. Thanks for bringing out so beautifully, Jodee, that we can draw strength every day from loving spirits who have shown us the way. Go, Jodee! And go, Agnes!!!
What a lovely way to honor your friends 💛
I have had a particular fondness for pussy willows since childhood. I remember painting pictures of them. Frank accepted first the cane and then the walker pretty well. I have had times that I needed a cane to deal with back pain. No hesitation. Anything to stop the pain. I would say that is because I am not a vain person, but Frank might explode with laughter.
Jodee, as soon as I started reading this, I gathered you to my heart. It sounded so familiar. My mother resisted getting her first new knee back in 2008, but finally gave in. After another knee replacement, and less than a month after leaving the hospital with a hip replacement, she was already back to walking three miles at a stretch. She had the other hip replaced last month. It’s not doing as well, but part of that’s due to other issues. For one thing, she’s now 84. I have to remind myself to stop comparing this recovery to the others. That’s not easy. Right now her walker is not her best friend. I just may print this out for her to read, and maybe she’ll feel a little better about it.
So true: “What’s key is accepting the truth of your condition and then finding new ways of doing the things you have always done.” Once someone accepts, one can adapt which means indeed, one can still do many things. I too love that I have my own comfy walker seat to wait out a long line or to have a place to sit when all the chairs in the doctor’s waiting room are full. Standing long to cook/bake is no longer possible, but by adapting, doing much of the prep seated at a table, then I am still able to have family and friends over to share a delicious meal. I don’t feel old using helping tools like a walker nor am I embarrassed by having adapted how I prepare meals, rather I feel happier and more independent!
Great story and I love the photo of Hannlis making the best use of what was right at hand! My grandmother passed away at 99 but spent a few years in need of getting a walker — … which she refused to do. She would drive around the grocery store parking lot looking for a lost shopping cart that no one had returned to the racks. She would park right next to it (yes, driving even then) and use the cart as her walker — leaving it right next to her car when she was finished. Can’t help but think of her resilience even now when I see a cart way out there in the nether reaches of the lot.
So, better to be in charge by making the right decisions. Go Jodee — you made the right decision!
Jodee,
Good for you in accepting when you need a tool to get your body where it needs to be.
Acceptance is the key to resolving all dilemmas in my book.
Your cards are the best and so inspirational as was this newsletter
Thank you!