Able without the Cane

My resistance or refusal to use a blind man’s cane may be stubbornness. I haven’t thought that much about it despite having a number of reasons, the most basic of which is that I do not feel the need for one. I don’t go out much, and seldom go out alone. I take reasonable care and rely on others and figure that prevents most mishaps that could happen.
Around the house as a happy recluse, the cane would have the effect of whacking the cat Sasquatch. He’s used to being kicked into and tripped over, and causes this himself by blending into most flooring and intentionally going for my ankles. I don’t know that he’d be as forgiving if he was being beaten with a stick. I generally navigate well through familiar areas and the moving obstacle Sasquatch prevents amounts to the only real hazard.
A cane seems like it would be a burden if I need both hands, like a purse that always needs to be watched or keys or glasses to be forgotten and lost when folded up.
The cane most emphatically will be of no help for the things I really need, like seeing where I put something down, telling me what aisle in the supermarket I am in, seeing the display on my cell phone or discerning the label on a can of vegetables.
There’s no gain of independence for me by using a cane. Theoretically, I could walk to the grocery store, but would not be able to see effectively to shop alone anyway. And the theoretical aside, I am a double gimp with bad eyes and a bad foot so I cannot make that walk on my own anyway. If and when the worst happens with the ankle, I cannot visualize self propelling my own wheelchair and swinging a cane out in front of me.
There is a deeper reason for my objection to cane use. The friends who took me to task about it recently mentioned that objection precisely, as a reason why I should use it: they said it would make things easier for other people to know I am blind.
I am something of a cynic. I figure that being burdened with a cane in public equates to having a target sign on my forehead. Capable-looking forty-somethings are not the typical targets of muggings and ATM robberies Criminals target easy marks, and openly advertising my blindness seems as though it would put me in that category.
Going even deeper, let me make a blanket complaint, perhaps even a bit of whining about my situation, something that I try to avoid even when talking about it in person or on the blog. While I push on and be as active of a person as I can, things are very difficult for me. I dealt with the blindness remarkably well before the Charcot foot rotted out my ankle. I could deal with the foot problem much better if I could actually clearly see where I was trying to walk. The two problems together don’t add, they multiply, yet I have not surrendered to useless helplessness. I do what I can for myself with what I have left. Sometimes I am remarkably successful and capable, but it is never easy and often not worth the effort after all is said and done.
The expectation, even the suggestion, that I should try even harder to make other people, including complete strangers, more comfortable with my disability really pisses me off. I suppose I should put that in a more polite or literary way, but that also is me compensating for things that may make other people more comfortable. There’s got to be a limit to that, and I choose clarity: The expectation that I try even harder to make others more comfortable with my disability really pisses me off.