I need an "I'm Crippled" sign.

The crutches are gone.

The brace is off.

The limp is still around. Which, unfortunately, is very confusing to people when you don't have the obvious signs of being post-op.

Without the brace, I'm just some weirdo with a goofy leg who can't walk well.

Walking isn't really hard at all, though, despite the off-kilter gait. But stairs pose a problem. Going up, I look relatively normal. Going down, I look stupid. There's no other way to say it. Stupid.

Because I have to take the stairs one at a time. As in step onto the step. Then have the next foot meet it. Then do it again. All the way.

So today I'm going down some stairs at my office (the most inaccessible building EVER constructed within the last thirty years) and I think I'm totally alone. So I take the stairs extra, super slow. I hang onto the railing for dear life and I lower myself as if my feet are made of eggs.

Left foot. Right foot meets left foot. Pause. Breath. Move hands. Repeat.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" I hear echo down from above.

This, of course, scared the spirit right out of me, which made me go rigid for a second causing me to lose my balance and nearly topple over.

"I'm fine. I just, er, well, got out of a leg brace two hours ago."

Yeah, that sounds reassuring.

The owner of the voice cocked her head at me. Seconds went by. "It just looked like you were really having trouble there. I wanted to make sure you didn't need help."

I told her that I was fine. Slow, but fine. And feeling silly, I slowly slinked (limped) away.

As embarrassing as it was, it's nice that someone cared enough to check. Every now and then, people are good.