Thursday, October 10, 2013


If you hear a rumor that I have bird bone disease, it's just the kids. I made that one up. 

I broke a bone in my foot. Getting out of my car. Weeks ago. I have known this since I wrote my last blog and am now wearing a boot of shame.

For the first few weeks that I had the stress fracture in my foot I did not seek medical attention. My foot hurt, walking hurt and the pain radiated up my body. I thought I was having a bad flare with a hurt foot. In the back of my mind part of me was convinced that there was something very wrong with my foot but I was in pain and thought I might be overreacting. A decade of chronic pain has taught me to listen to my body, then tune out the noise and try to get on with life.

My first solution to the pain in my foot was to try and buy new shoes. I am still stuck in the phase of personal evolution where I hope shopping can help problems. Once a year my daughter and I are enthralled by the new school supplies and believe that we will achieve a state of perfect, color coordinated organization if only we choose the right binder and desk accessories. Since I broke my foot the week before school started I knew that if I found a pair of tennis shoes (I prefer to go barefoot and have spent the last year in ballet flats with no support even when on walks) that the correct cushioning would provide relief. 

I have been looking for a new pair of tennis shoes since my last pair gave out during my pregnancy. On a few quick trips to the sporting goods store to buy equipment or shoes for the tween I've tried to find some for myself but they were always way too bright. Once I found a pair I liked that fit and my daughter quipped that her best friend had the same pair. I can't dress like the Tweens. Also, she wanted the same pair and I couldn't buy myself the status shoes my child wanted. It just seemed wrong. 

In a row of neon shoes, I tried to find something timeless and mature. My daughter told me anything gray was for old people. I told her anything fluorescent was for the young. There was a pair of all black. I bought them to prove a point. My foot still hurt. Also, I look like a ninja. 

(I have since been told that my black ninja shoes look like "Amish sneakers") 

Later that week my daughter hurt her hand in tennis and the pediatrician sent us to the walk in orthopedic clinic for an x-ray. While we waited for results (she needed a smaller grip raquet) I thought "I should have them X-ray my foot, I know it's broken" but then we would never have gotten out of that clinic. 

Instead I waited another week, complaining on twitter, not taking my morning walk, skulking around the house and feeling wretched as the hurt foot triggered a flare and a headache. 

The episode of explaining my chronic pain disorder, that I waited so long for a boot and x-ray and that I wasn't seeking any pain meds is a blog that has already been written and isn't that interesting. Nurses are amazing. 

Now I have a black boot and compression baths. Specific instructions to try to stay off my foot and I realized that if you go out and about in public with a broken foot you need a better reason than falling out of your parked truck while barefoot. 

I know someone who finished an Ironman triathlon with a broken foot. I'm not complaining. I just need a better story for how I broke mine. 

Particarlarly for the queries from young people. If I expect the growing minds to be thinking expansively then I want to give them a more creative answer to how I broke my foot:

Sky Diving.

Rock climbing. 

Saving the world. 

Having a broken foot and a toddler is not condusive to getting many things done. We have produced a prodigious amount of new artwork during our home period and I am in the process of mailing it out. 

We are making Halloween Decorations. 

Also, I don't have to go to the grocery store. So really, life is pretty good. 


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