Imagine a translucent marble stuck between you and the floor. It’s settled within your left heel and it goes everywhere you go. Most times it rolls into the inner aspect of your heel, other times it plays in the middle, and then just for fun it will toy with the outer rim for a bit.
You’re never quite sure where it will be, or if it will be. In the mornings, you sit up in bed and study the benign tile floor. The floor that used to feel so cool and smooth beneath your naked feet. Can I chance it, you think. Can I, should I, try walking the six steps to the bathroom without my shoes? It’s such an innocent request, to indulge a penchant for walking barefoot in the house.
You swing your legs over and gingerly place your feet on the floor. You stand, and oh, there it is. The marble says hello, and your shoes are in the closet, so you hobble on to the bathroom, careening and holding on to the wall, the vanity, the doorjamb of the bathroom door. To anyone looking, you would appear to be really old, or really drunk.
Once done with your morning ablution, you sway into the walk-in closet to retrieve your shoes. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Every step is a penance but what you are paying for you do not know.
You slip your feet into the warm embrace of your shoes and find that your prayers have been heard. You can walk upright and steady again. For the moment, the marble is neutralized.
I don’t mean to sound like an advertisement but, truly, these Crocs are the only shoes I can walk in for long periods. They have a cushioned sole akin to a shock absorber, an arch support, a heel cup that cradles and protects, and beading that massages my feet. The straps are elastic so they can never bind. And best of all, they are light, practically weightless, unlike me.
I currently own four pairs, two pairs stockpiled for later, because I don’t know how long this condition might last and I don’t want to run the risk of not being able to replace them. I use one pair for home, and one for running errands. They look great with my jeans, but even if they didn’t, I wouldn’t care.
It’s been several months now, and from my reading I find that I can be careening and swaying for up to one year. During my NYC trip last month, I had to take one day off to rest my foot. The pain was exquisitely excruciating, or excruciatingly exquisite, but definitely well worth it.
In two weeks, I will be on the road again, hopefully in time to welcome a new grandbaby, and to reconnect with my lovely Carmen. There won’t be many opportunities to sit still with my feet up, but again, so very, very worth it.