26. Injury

One evening about a month ago, I changed into dress clothes for a work event. I traded my comfy, black Clarks Mary Janes for a pair of shiny black pumps. As I walked to my car, I noticed I had to scrunch up my toes to keep the shoe from flopping off my heel. I made this repetitive motion with the toes of my right foot every time I walked.

When I took off my shoes five hours later, and placed my foot flat on the floor, I felt the pain,like a cramp in the middle of my foot. I sat on the side of my daughter's bed catching up from our long days apart and helping her wind down and fall asleep. I massaged my foot, breathing deeply to cope with the pain I was feeling in the arch of my foot. As I breathed and kneaded my foot, I felt a knot form.

 

From there and for the next two weeks I had a distinct limp. I tried a heating pad. I resorted to wearing my running shoes to work. They provided some relief, so I wore them all the time.

I skipped a day of walking because the pain was so sharp. The next day I returned to the walking habit. It was slow, painful going. As I was making my way back to my office, I scanned my posture and the way I was waddling down the street to avoid the pain. I recognized this tentative movement. Ah, yes, I thought. I'm walking like I had when I was pregnant. Huge and out of balance. Measuring my every step. It was strange to feel that again. 

That day's walk was slow and agonizing. It was a lesson in appreciation. I wanted healthy feet so that I could continue my walking habit. I was also caught in the middle. Resting my foot might offer some relief and help it heal quicker. But not moving at all could introduce new problems. 

 

I thought about the pain I'd been through in the past few years and how ultimately modifying my life a little bit, and continuing to push forward through the pain had ended up being the best way to cope.

In the case of the foot, my running shoes were my modification. They offered support, extra padding, and were able to absorb most of the shock. Attentive friends, early bed times, good books, and time had been the modifications for the emotional pain I had endured.

And then, I visited family out of state, and my physician brother-in-law asked how my foot was. He examined it and declared that I'd injured my plantar fascia. A few hours later, he offered to massage it and work out the knot that had formed. “It's going to really hurt as I work on it, but it really will be worth it. You'll feel better after I massage it.”

He was right about both. The pain and discomfort were hard to bear, but then the next morning, I could put my full weight on my foot and walk normally. I hadn't been able to do that for two weeks. It was a relief. It was also a reminder that sometimes things have to get worse or hurt more before they can get better. If we stop at the edge of the pain—be it physical or emotional—we risk never getting to the good stuff. To the place where it doesn't hurt any more. Where we can walk without limping.