Das Boot

I'm afraid there just cannot be a pretty picture for this posting...and no, the above isn't some strange type of snow tire laying on a field of freshly fallen snow. Nope. I'm afraid it's much less pretty than that.

The above contraption is the resulting monstrosity from my visit to a nice podiatrist in Gilroy day before yesterday. And to say that I've procrastinated is putting it mildly.

Back in July my ankle got sore (and by "ankle" I mean that front part of the ankle where the bend is when you flex your foot). Now it had hurt before, especially when I wore one particular pair of tennis shoes that felt too stiff - but it had always "worked itself out." Yep, it felt kind of like a burn-y kink was binding up that part of my foot. But, you know, you expect these things to sort of just go away. On their own. Cause that's what bodies do, you see. They heal themselves.

However, my body didn't seem willing to go along with the self-healing plan and last Saturday it flared up - big time. As in next to impossible to walk. Putting one foot in front of the other made me see stars. But I had things I had to do Saturday morning. So I just said to myself (and my obstinate ankle) "This is just stupid! I don't have time for this!" thinking a little tough love to my foot would make things all better.

Well. Just like me, my ankle apparently has a stubborn side. It didn't get better. Not even when I came home around 11:30 and plopped my foot up on the couch. It throbbed. It ached. It felt like it had little swords dancing around in there. I dreaded getting up. I pondered whether hospitals delivered bedpans. And of course Mr. H. was at a golf tournament and if I was going to get up, it would have to be under my own steam.

Around 9pm things got better. I could walk without the shooting stars. Slowly, very slowly, but I could navigate. Sunday was a teensy bit better. But the handwriting was on the wall. I contacted my buddy Macey and got (for the 17th or so time but who's counting?) the name and phone number of her foot doc in Gilroy.

So making a short story even longer - x-rays netted no positive info. There was a chip on a bone in there somewhere in that forest of little bones that comprise the foot. But that could be an old injury, Dr. Fisher said. Or maybe the two bone spurs on my ankle were the cause of the pain - probably arthritis related (great!!!!! getting older is not for sissies) - but as for the tendon and soft tissue, it was not possible to tell without benefit of an MRI.

Then, because I suppose he wanted to give me a memento of my first visit to his office, Dr. Fisher came in with something that looked like hip waders that you would wear into the Colorado River. But he wasn't carrying a fishing pole...did this mean? Oh, yeah. It meant...big-time ugly boot. "Don't you have any cute ones?" I whined as he laced the thing up via vast amounts of Velcro. In response he drew a flower on a 2" wide strip of adhesive and slapped it on the boot.

Well, I have to say, I think the blasted thing is helping. Not yesterday, though. That was a big-time pain-in-the-ankle day so I heeded ol' Doc Fisher's (he's not really old, I just think that sounds kinda country-doctor-like) advice and stayed off my feet for a good part of the day. Where I glared at my floors that could use a vacuum and the furniture that could use a dusting and the kitchen counters that could use...well, some sandblasting perhaps.

But it was worth it. Today - although the boot is still on my foot and will be pretty much 'round the clock for the next couple of weeks - I am PRACTICALLY pain free! What a concept! Between knee surgery 20 months ago that took FOREVER to heal and then my ankle I haven't been able to walk without some major hitches in my get along for years. Literally.

So - it's too soon to say if "Das Boot" is the miracle answer I've been waiting for. But, for now, it sure appears to be "Das Gute Medizin!"