Friday, August 12, 2011

Footnotes of summer

My love affair with foot massage began as a teen in the 70s. Reilly inherited the gene and happily offers his size 11 feet to me when he's around. Mika, dear man, has no greater love, save for guava ice cream. In fact, he's been known to get horizontal, bare those tired feet, and once the massage is in full swing, moan with delight, "Lord, take me now."

Last summer, I was sporting a knee-high walking boot and hobbling about on crutches with an atypical stress fracture of the navicular. That's podiatrist-speak for "Damn, my foot hurts!" Not to be outdone by the right foot, my left foot has gotten into the narrative and added a whole new set of footnotes. I'm happy to report that the bandaged-acquired blisters are now fully healed, and the laser, ultrasound, massage, ice and Ibuprofen regimen seems to be working its magic: the nasty plantar fasciitis is beginning to abate. The pain associated with this has been unlike anything I've ever endured. It's akin to having a spike driven through the heel; no foolin'.

A final footnote of advice: love your feet, treat them well, support your arches, or feel like h*#@!

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