|The offending appendage|
I feel like an utter fraud.
This is the kind of injury dedicated runners get, or people who climb tons of stairs. It’s even known to be caused by shoes laced too tightly.
NONE of this applies to me. It is as if I got the bends from just washing my face, or carpal tunnel from waving bye bye once in a while.
On Saturday morning, walking to meet Rose at the Oreland train station, I noticed my right foot was aching. Didn’t think much of it—in fact, I proceeded to walk two more miles, to the Acme and back. That evening, a group of us went down to Delaware to see Steve in Guys and Dolls. By then, I was hobbling, and after the show I couldn’t traverse the path from theatre to car without assistance.
No sleep that night due to intense pain, even after taking 600 mg. of ibuprophen. I spent early Sunday morning divesting myself of my obligations for the day ahead—teaching Confirmation, delivering the children’s message. I was really looking forward to attending the opera that afternoon with my friend Mary Ellen, but the prospect of navigating Center City on foot was way too much for me. So I passed the day resting, elevating, and icing the offending appendage. By then it was pretty clear I had extensor tendonitis (an inflammation of the tendons of the foot). This is one of those delightful ailments for which time is the only real cure—and I don’t have time for this!!!
Ironically, we’d just covered St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians in Bible study (the one listing the various Fruits of the Spirit). I’d been feeling a bit smug as I checked off my Fruits. Yes, I am (often) kind! Yes, I exhibit self-control! Sometimes! Loving? Faithful? But of course! Ish!! But then I got to…Patient. And I had to admit. I am not only impatient, I am IMPATIENT, especially when it comes to issues of health and wellness. In a world where so many of my brothers and sisters are living with genuine, long term disabilities, I am instantly infuriated by a slight, temporary limp.
My life circumstances can change on a dime—as can yours. This week, I walked a literal mile in the shoes of a disabled person. I hope to emerge from this miserable experience with more patience, and compassion. I am not getting any younger, and I anticipate more and more system failures going forward. And I’ll have a choice when confronted with the inevitable aches and pains ahead. Will I be grouchy? Or gracious?
|A day as miserable as I am!|
As it write this, it is a sleety Tuesday afternoon—not a day to be outside, even with fully functioning limbs. I can now put some weight on the foot without agony (though it isn’t loads of fun). Clearly I am on the road to recovery, and anticipate being back on the dance floor by next weekend.
Except I don’t dance.
But you get the idea.