Have you ever been in the middle of telling a story and realized you forgot to tell an important fact at the start?
With jokes, it is death. With essays, not so much.
But several of you caught me in a bit of missing narrative when I mentioned "Now, my recent injury to my left foot is restricting me" in colossus bestriding two worlds. The email began almost immediately. What injury?
I thought I had told you, but I guess not.
The tale is nowhere near as exotic as breaking my right ankle while indulging my more adventurous side. Not to ruin the tale, but I really do not know what happened.
Two weeks ago, I decided it was time for me to get a little exercise. I had essentially been sedentary for five months. My physical therapy was going well enough that I could put almost all of my increasing weight on my right foot. I had very little dorsiflexion -- bending my foot back toward the shin. But I could easily walk places as long as I did not encounter irregular terrain.
So, I decided it was time to walk to work. The weather was perfect. And the two-mile walk would help me to start shedding some of my extra pounds.
And it was a good idea. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I slowed down my pace enough to make my right foot feel comfortable. It was working out well. I was getting exercise. Fresh air. And camaraderie with my fellow morning walkers. It felt great.
Then came Thursday morning. I was about one-third of the way to work when my left foot began to hurt. Just a little. Out of the blue. But with each step, it hurt more. By the time I arrived at the office, it hurt enough I could barely put any weight on it.
The morning walks stopped. Since then, I have minimized putting any weight on it. When I descend stairs, I look as if I am auditioning for a role as Quasimodo. No radiculopathy. Just pain in the foot.
For two weeks I have let it rest. Yesterday I decided enough was enough, and walked to work. And made it with a minimum of pain.
I also saw my doctor that morning. She had no diagnosis. But she agreed with me it could be a stress fracture. If it does not get better, I will see her before I leave for Mexico.
But she had a very good piece of news for me -- that I will tell you on Friday when it becomes official. At least, I hope it becomes official.
For now, I will nurse both feet back to health. After all, my small fishing village by the sea is a walking place. And I will need two good feet.
