Heel & Toe
My foot hurts. It's been hurting for a while. Walking down the hill to the barn and kennel has been a real pain for a few months. I can't not do that—I have too many critters to feed and water.
I've wanted to walk the trails on the farms for over a month. Finally, John mowed enough of the head-high weeds down (but neglected to kill the copperhead that darted under the tractor) so I could see the trails.
Maggie and I walked the trail to the creek the other day. OK, we didn't actually walk. She ran; I limped. I was pretty sure I had plantar fasciitis. I've had it twice before (one of the prices I pay for being old and fat). Plus I have a sore toe.
The good thing: both ailments involve the same foot. The bad thing: it's the right foot—the foot I drive with.
I've learned the odds of getting a doctor when you need one—even in a semi-rural county—are not good. A couple of weeks ago, I tried to get an appointment with my family practice physician. Couldn't get anything until the end of the month.
I tried a podiatrist. Luckily there was one appointment open for the first thing this morning. "OK," I said. "I'll take it." I figured I could go to the appointment in Rocky Mount and still make it to Lake Writers by late morning. I'd only be fashionably late.
Hah! When time for the writers club rolled around, I was in X-Ray. No way could I get to Moneta before the meeting was over.
The good news: it's not plantar fasciitis. The bad news: I have a heel spur. A big one. It's very impressive and quite attractive—looks like a big curl on the bottom of my heel. (Too bad I didn't request eight-by-ten glossies of the X-rays!)
The good news: Eighty percent of heel spurs don't require surgery. They respond well to physical therapy and orthotics. The bad news: I'll have do therapy three times a week for a while and the insurance didn't cover the cost of the orthotics (which, I have to admit, are pretty comfortable
The worse news: the toe has an ingrown toenail that will require surgery. Because of the infection, we have to put surgery off for a while until the antibiotics do their job.
The good news: I won't have to miss the Appalachian Writers Conference next weekend. And I'll have a handicapped tag so I can drive up to buildings instead of having to negotiate hills.
The bad news: I still have to have toenail surgery. And by the time I can walk any distance without limping, the trails will be overgrown again.
!*#*&!*
(Note: When I said that in the doctor's office, he threatened to wash my mouth out with soap.)
I've wanted to walk the trails on the farms for over a month. Finally, John mowed enough of the head-high weeds down (but neglected to kill the copperhead that darted under the tractor) so I could see the trails.
Maggie and I walked the trail to the creek the other day. OK, we didn't actually walk. She ran; I limped. I was pretty sure I had plantar fasciitis. I've had it twice before (one of the prices I pay for being old and fat). Plus I have a sore toe.
The good thing: both ailments involve the same foot. The bad thing: it's the right foot—the foot I drive with.
I've learned the odds of getting a doctor when you need one—even in a semi-rural county—are not good. A couple of weeks ago, I tried to get an appointment with my family practice physician. Couldn't get anything until the end of the month.
I tried a podiatrist. Luckily there was one appointment open for the first thing this morning. "OK," I said. "I'll take it." I figured I could go to the appointment in Rocky Mount and still make it to Lake Writers by late morning. I'd only be fashionably late.
Hah! When time for the writers club rolled around, I was in X-Ray. No way could I get to Moneta before the meeting was over.
The good news: it's not plantar fasciitis. The bad news: I have a heel spur. A big one. It's very impressive and quite attractive—looks like a big curl on the bottom of my heel. (Too bad I didn't request eight-by-ten glossies of the X-rays!)
The good news: Eighty percent of heel spurs don't require surgery. They respond well to physical therapy and orthotics. The bad news: I'll have do therapy three times a week for a while and the insurance didn't cover the cost of the orthotics (which, I have to admit, are pretty comfortable
The worse news: the toe has an ingrown toenail that will require surgery. Because of the infection, we have to put surgery off for a while until the antibiotics do their job.
The good news: I won't have to miss the Appalachian Writers Conference next weekend. And I'll have a handicapped tag so I can drive up to buildings instead of having to negotiate hills.
The bad news: I still have to have toenail surgery. And by the time I can walk any distance without limping, the trails will be overgrown again.
!*#*&!*
(Note: When I said that in the doctor's office, he threatened to wash my mouth out with soap.)
posted by Becky Mushko | 2:27 PM
4 Comments:
Okay Marion - I mean Becky - are we going to have to start meeting on the FIRST floor of the library? What terrible luck you are having. I do not look forward to my haphazard injuries increasing as the years pile up.
Hang in there! Train the dog to fetch things for you!!
Amy H
Can you believe it? And it's your right foot as well. Gadzooks...
I finally did find the best cure for ingrown toenails. Instead of the podiatrist (& he is a sweetie, I agree) I get a pedicure! The woman there digs out the ingrow (my nails curve inward)on both feet after a long hot soak in the whirlpool tub/chair. Then she cuts & files all the nails & paints them any color I want, & massages my feet & lower legs. Oh, also she 'sands' the bottoms of both feet before massaging cream lotion into them.
All this for about $25. This is NOT an indulgence. I can no longer reach my feet to do all this!
My father-in-law (who had his Ph.D. in chemistry) told us that if we touched a little turpentine to the beginnings of an ingrown toenail a couple of times a day for 2-3 days the ingrown toenail would go away. So far it's worked! Don't know what the turpentine has done to my body, though. And I would not suggest you try it on yours at this stage.
Yeah, I remember turpentine as being an old family remedy. Probably killed any germs that came close to it.
Of course, whiskey was also kept for medicinal purposes.
Let's see, If I combine whiskey--no, let's make it wine--with Marion's remedy, I could possibly learn to enjoy this condition.
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