WARNING: Serious over-sharing and ranting happening today. Proceed at your own risk...
First of all, Happy First Day of Summer!
It's only June and 2013 is already going down in history as The Year That My Health Gets Its Butt Kicked.
Let me explain...
About 3 weeks ago I got out of bed in the morning and put my feet on the floor. That's it. That's all I did. I got up. With that simple gesture (that I've been doing every single day of my entire life) the pain struck the bottom of my right foot.
And when I say "pain," I mean excruciating-dear-God-I-think-I'm-going-to-drop-dead-from-the-shock-of-the-ridiculously-painful pain.
A trip to the local Urgent Care told me a few things:
- I have a condition called Plantar Fasciitis.
- There's nothing that can be done to fix this, as it just "happens" arbitrarily and it's a tendon problem. Apparently, tendons are subject to different laws than the rest of your body.
- I am going to have to figure out how to live with it indefinitely. "It might go away in a week. Or a month. Or a year. Or never."
- "You should probably lose some weight. That would help."
Seriously, Unhelpful Urgent Care People? We can put a man on the moon but can't figure out how to treat a condition that randomly cripples 10% of the population?
I am soo not happy.
Let me sum up: I can't put any weight on my right foot without spasms of pain wracking my body. Especially when I take my first steps each day. And, okay, yes, I know I should probably lose weight, but there's that whole pesky I-can't-stand-let-alone-run-walk-or-ride-a-bike-without-collapsing-in-pain thing. How is this okay in any universe?
Ironically, I've been feeling really great lately. I have found some fantastic nutritional support for my fibromyalgia and I have tons of energy and haven't had any flare-ups for months. Except now I have this stupid Plantar Fascii-dumb.
And a YMCA membership.
Our local YMCA happens to be connected to the training pool for the U.S. Olympic diving and swim teams. So, it's kind of like a resort. With a gorgeous, state-of-the-art, always-perfectly-clean-and-perfectly-heated Olympic size pool.
And because I can't put any weight on my foot without doing the Limp of Shame, I've been swimming. (Okay, so I have to limp to actually get into the pool, but once I'm in there, I'm freaking Esther Williams, but that's not important right now.)
I'm in the pool every other day now. With goggles. And a cap. And working on my stroke. And feeling good. And strong. In spite of the stupid Plantar Fascii-hate.
Dear Plantar Fasciitis,
You're a great, big jerk. And I hate you. But summer is here and I can't pay attention to you and the stupid pain. I've got places to go and things to do.
I appreciate the blog fodder. But seriously, feel free to leave anytime now.
"That which does not kill us makes us stronger." - Friedrich Nietzsche
"That which does not let us walk, makes us mean." - Marta Darby