I missed writing for a few weeks. I told my son I thought I wouldn’t write a column because of my broken foot. He said why? Do you write with your feet? No, because my sore throat hurts and clouds my mental playing field. He rolled his eyes the same way I did years ago when he said he couldn’t do his math homework because he had his tooth pulled out the same day. Do you use your teeth for math? I asked. I think Sass came home to stay.
Whether or not my son considers it an appropriate explanation for his inability to write, the fact remains: I broke my foot a bit. Or rather, I had a small fracture in my foot. If you have big feet, is a small break technically a big break? I will think about it. In fact, I will think of a lot of things. Being with one shoe, up, and can’t easily do my usual errand, hit the dance floor and dance.
Other than pain or any permanent damage to the foot, I’m mostly afraid of boredom. I don’t usually get bored at all so I don’t practice managing it. Although I shouldn’t be bored now that I have less free time, I see how it takes a lot longer to go to the bathroom or kitchen.
My friends need to start a GoFunMe page. (Fun, not finance.) For my GoFunMe, instead of sending me money, send me a joke or email me a puzzle. Hand over a book or visit your pet’s duck.
How to occupy oneself was not a problem for me. But a little piece of me is bothering me, what if a two-week to four-month break from my feet elapses? What if I run out of things to think about? And who will now clean the garage? Around the garage, my neat son said the same guy would clean it up before you hurt your foot. no one. At least you have an excuse now for a while.
The way I broke my foot was that I slid backwards on a set of steps and the step was not behind me where I thought it would be. yawn. Less interesting than if I was running from thieves or saving a little bear. Or I was cleaning my roof and slipped, landing like a gymnast, from a height that fractured my foot bone. Olympic me.
I broke a foot around the same time Hurricane Ian hit. It reminds me that a lot of the challenge we face in life is perspective. Starting to stagger to the bathroom seems more manageable than seeing my furniture float in my house.
When I got the removable cast/boot device, everyone in the orthopedic office said you can’t drive with this. Seriously, you can’t. Don’t try it. you do not have to. Well, well, I said. There is no chance of that, even if I wanted to. I could barely walk in it.
I staggered over to my car in the parking lot, at least five people stopped to offer assistance. It is a sign of a small town or a sign of the south. This is what we do. Slow down and help people cross the road.
Sure, I was sneaking up on a snail’s pace, but I was fine. After he refused help and thanked another of the people who stopped by to help, I asked him if he thought I needed help because I was moving too slowly. No, he said, I stopped because you seemed confused. It made me laugh.
Well… I suppose. I had questions on my mind as I made my way through the parking lot. Should I get another shoe? Wearing clumsy high boots makes walking quite sloppy. If I had a shoe on the other foot as well, would it be easier to walk?
Also, when meditating, the feet contain 56 bones. Approximately 25% of the bones in the body are in the feet. If I break one of my bones in half, is it now counted as two bones? I have 28 bones in one foot and 29 bones in the affected foot, which I call the foot of the foot.
Earlier this year, friends referred to Mel Tellis’ classic novel which tells a story about three rabbits called foot, foot, foot, and foot. Tillis was a popular country singer, known for his severe stutter when speaking. The older Tillis could hesitantly pass by the hare’s story. Previous versions of it say it’s less smooth. this is funy. Check it out. He knows he’s struggling, ignoring the humor in him, but he’s determined to get past it. He is my idol at the moment.
When I hit Bigfoot, I already had tickets to a concert. I rented a motorbike so I could go. Join the boot scooter group. (Different meaning than when the line dancers were named.) A friend commented with me that the people who were watching me on the scooter were smiling, amused. why? It could be because of your bravery, I can do that expression. Or because you keep apologizing for how loud the backup bee is.
I now have several pieces of walking aids for different purposes that I am transporting. My dad’s stick, a traditional treadmill, a knee scooter and a spinner walker, plus a full boot and a half boot. My car looks like I’m a salesperson for orthotics. A friend said he knew a couple who would accept donations of used medical equipment, then give or loan some of the things to others when needed. A really great niche that the couple fills. But my friend said that when he goes to their basement where they keep things, it’s kind of scary. Wall-mounted medical instruments and doodads for anchors hanging in the air throughout the underground room.
It got me thinking about Halloween. I wonder if I should decorate the front porch by placing medical devices and therapeutic devices on it.
One night, after I got to bed, I noticed that my lips were really dry. I dreaded walking around looking for some ChapStick in my medicine cabinet. It occurred to me that regular lipstick has lip hydrating properties and my bag was right next to me. I felt it next to me in my bag because of the dark reddish-brown lipstick and in the dark, I rubbed it liberally on my lips and lip area, and then it slept. The next morning, I forgot I smeared makeup balm. He limped toward the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He shouted at the scary clown as he looked at me. Wild hair, colorful nightgown and very poorly applied lipstick is an excellent outfit.
I guess Halloween in some years isn’t fake injuries and pretend wounds. It’s real. Bandages, wraps and ice packs. Pulling a leg, he flinched in pain with a frantic determination and made up for obsessive laughter. Boaha! happy Halloween.
That’s the opinion of Nancy Williams, professional education coordinator at UNC Asheville. Contact her at [email protected]
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