Raising Cane

I frequently hear the suggestion that I should be using a cane, not a walking cane for the bad foot, but one of those folding red and white rods for blind folk.
The most recent time I heard the suggestion was while out to dinner with two friends. He one who raised it had some legitimacy in doing so; I had admitted to him that while out with the other friend earlier that day, I had walked into a wall. The first friend was being slightly manipulative; he figured he could enlist the second friend to his cause. He also probably figured that the public restaurant setting would keep me quiet and the two people together would wear me down.
Dismissed the idea, as always do. That doesn’t mean I have not considered the concept; it means not now. The second friend is socially wiser than the first, issued his opinion then let the matter drop. The first friend pushed and got put down harder than might seem necessary, but experience has taught me that he will not stop on a subject until he gets his own way or gets figuratively slapped down.
He was not unwarranted in the concept. The day this had happened had been the second day in two months that I had walked into a wall, hard enough to bump my forehead. Maybe it will take a few more bumps to knock some sense in, but the specifics of each mishap don’t truly emphasize the need for a cane.
Both mishaps shared things in common:
I was in a public place.
The walls I walked into were soft colors that easily blend into the appearance of the foggy haze of "faded into the distance." Basically, from my visual perspective, it looked like nothing was there.
Both bumps were the first (perhaps overconfident) steps out from a standing position. Basically, I had stood still long enough and by my thoughts or conversation with the companions at the time, I had lost track of where or how I was standing. In other words, I had forgotten the walls were there and, having gotten turned to a wall that blended perfectly with my usual haze, took a first step into a solid barrier that ran from floor to ceiling.
Knocking on wood here, I have not yet actually tripped or walked into something while walking along.
In both these instances, the bump had been on the first step out from a standing position and had hit forehead first because my head was bowed while I made sure nothing would interfere with my gimpy feet. It’s not much different from walking into an open cabinet door or banging my head on something unexpected hanging down. Those types of mishaps have been more common, particularly in the first year of all this. During that first year, I was seldom without some type of bump or scrape on my forehead. I’ve adjusted to potential hazards better since then, and there’s not a one that a cane would have prevented.
Besides, watching someone walk into walls is amusing and feeling forward with a cane may not reveal the banana peel in my path.