Space Boots and Foot Pain

October 18, 2016

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Perhaps I should title this post—stupidity breeds absurdity, or something else that signifies how stubbornness can be either a strength or a weakness.

I truly believe that part of my DNA includes the stubborn gene. Because . . . I tend to forge ahead in many areas long after I should, well, not throw in the towel, but at least halt for awhile. Except—I struggle with knowing when something is good enough vs. being adequate enough vs. being complete. As a result, I tend to err on the “this could be improved” side, which at times could be viewed as an OCD tendency.

Anyway, along with inheriting the mile long stubborn gene, I think I also inherited my grandmother’s foot problems—the bone spurs, etc. Or, maybe this current foot injury is because I skimped on footwear for which I am now paying the price. Who knows? But the end result for both feet is torn up tissue that connects the heel to the rest of the foot. Treatment? Limited walking, taped feet, shoe inserts, a knee length rocker boot, and something resembling open toed space boots that I’m required to wear while I sleep.

And yes, each one of these remedies added fuel to the copious amount of laughing gas already contained in my family.

As a matter of fact, for several weeks my crew cackled at my shuffled walking. “Hey, Mom,” they’d shout across the room, “you walk like you’re twice your age!” Then they’d break out in raucous laughter.

“Y’all are mean!” I’d retort while trying to keep my facial expressions from revealing that each step was like a barefooted trip through a heavily thorned cactus patch.

My sarcastic response inspired more snickers.

As they guffawed and slapped their legs, two nuggets of my grandparent’s wisdom floated through my mind: “It will feel better when it quits hurting,” and “I’ve had worse than that on my eyeball.”

I always wished I’d had enough nerve to ask my grandparents, “What kind of wisdom is that?” but I never wanted to disrespect my elders. I mean, obviously when the pain went away “it,” whatever “it” was, would feel better. But, for the love of Mike (or Pete or John), somebody please tell me what that second nugget of wisdom means?

Nevertheless, I took my own approach to the foot pain. I ignored the problem in hopes it would go away.

No such luck!

Finally, after weeks of watching me suffer, my youngest gave me an ultimatum. “Mom, if your feet still hurt in the morning, I’m driving you to the doctor at 11 AM.”

I’m not sure which part of that declaration frightened me most—her driving my behemoth vehicle, or the thought of two long needles shoved in my heel as the doctor pumped cortisone in my joints.

Both scenarios led me to pray for a miraculous healing during the night.

It didn’t happen!

So, when 11 AM arrived, I begrudgingly got in the van and headed to the doctor.

After an initial consult, a referral to a podiatrist, and the proclamation of a lengthy treatment process wearing the above mentioned apparatuses for an undetermined amount of time; I’d gladly have suffered through the short-term pain of the shots, even if my daughter had to drive me all the way to California to get them!

Yes, sometimes being stubborn and determined pays off. Other times it results in unwanted consequences.

And this—this space boot wearing mama has realized something—this was one of those times when being stubborn was more of a weakness than a strength.

Do you have similar stories? Feel free to share them in the comments below.

* photo compliments of morguefile.com

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