(Name that movie!) Hey–I haven’t complained about my health all year, so I was figuring you all were beginning to wonder if I’d been swapped with a doppelgänger. Have no fear. I’m here to put that rumor to rest, while simultaneously building off my “foot theme” from yesterday. I’m a man of many facets–what can I say?
For all the various aches and pains I’ve had over my years, one thing that never really bothered me were my fee (when they’re not being cold). They were sturdy, stalwart companions who went about their business, day in and day out, doing what they did best: letting me walk around places so I could do cool things. It’s not a glamorous job. There’s a lot of sweaty, smelly working conditions, the hours are long, and they never really got too much in the way of pay raises or even Christmas bonuses. (Seriously. Who wants socks for Christmas? Ironic, isn’t it.)
But they didn’t mind. They just did what they did best, and every know and then I’d give them a scratch or a foot rub, and we called it good.
Then, last year, I upped the ante. I started that whole “jogging in place” thing. And to be honest, I never really talked that idea over with my feet. I just kind of assumed, you know? And to make matters worse, I didn’t even let them do it in anything so cushy as a sneaker. I used my regular shoes. My normal, worn out and getting worner, shoes. In my defense, the plan was to get new shoes for Christmas. I even had those shoes in my possession. I was only waiting for Christmas morning for their unwrapping.
And I guess that was too much for my poor feet. The right one, at least. He finally threw in the towel and went on strike.
A week or so before Christmas, my right heel flared up with severe pain. Pain that just hung around and wouldn’t go away. I tried to walk it out. Tried to ignore it. But I soon discovered there are some pains in this world that demand attention. That cannot be ignored. (Plus, it was putting a serious cramp in my whole “exercise” thing. I didn’t want to risk getting sick because I couldn’t exercise regularly.)
So I went to the doctor. (While I was there, I asked about my headaches, as well. Just in case you were wondering still. Two birds, one doctor visit.)
The verdict? Plantar Fasciitis. And it might be here for a while. Thankfully, I got some insoles for my shoes (and finally cracked open the new pair), and my feet are feeling better-ish. Weeks later, it still hurts (especially in the evening), and I have to hobble around some, but it’s so much better than it was. (Imagine having an open wound in the bottom of your foot, just in front of your heel. It was kind of like that, but without the blood.)
Moral of the story? I no longer take my feet for granted. They have been promoted to full and active partners in my daily life, and they now get the respect they deserve. (And the socks to boot.)
Even if they still have to keep working in dark, smelly environments.