My feet are back to the same old ache again. No mistaking that sensation when I put my weight down. While I’m disappointed to no longer have clouds under my toes, I did get a lot accomplished. The house isn’t quite shiny, but the dust bunnies have been rounded up, branded, and moved onto the garbage express downstairs. Of all the extra jobs I could have done yesterday, I chose to scrub the sinks out. So there is SOME shine – you just gotta go look in a sink to see it. I can do that. My room is picked up, the garbage and recycling are out, and the dishes are done. I even watered my plants. I’m all set to have another sloth episode and do nothing for an extended period.
Of course, I don’t want that to happen. But I’m ready for it.
Took a walk over to buy my weekly lotto card and heard that sound I’ve grown to like so much – a ringing bell. That’s what the lotto machines make here when you’ve got some sort of winning ticket. Or maybe I should say that’s ONE of the sounds; it’s the only one I’ve heard, and for me it means free ticket, free ticket, free ticket. Double my chances for – oh. It was yesterday. Well, double my dreams right up to the point I turn the tickets in to be checked. 😀 A free ticket is the smallest prize you can win. Doesn’t matter; I’m a winner. Suck on that, dark clouds on my horizon.
Speaking of dark clouds, I just checked the weather. Hope I stocked up on sunshine; we are in for a long stretch of rain and possible snow (which we haven’t seen yet in Rotterdam). I’ve got a better chance to stay dry today than any other day before (and including) my appointment, so I should see if I can find the oomph to figure out how to get to the counseling center. The thought’s crossed my mind to TRUST that I can find it on the day, just start a bit earlier. That’s a whole lot of TRUST – trust that the metros will run on time, trust that I’ll find my connections, trust that I won’t just freak out and have to pull myself aside from the morning rush hour to light up because I’m shaking. Don’t know that I can trust that much. But I feel SO lazy today! Feels like I used up all my jazz yesterday and the day before. Going out in public seems a staggering prospect – a straight up hill climb. Ugh. Get some caffeine in my system.
My head is wandering around free range this morning. In the short interval it took to fill my coffee cup (and roll; I’ll be honest) I went off to future/past land and got myself to cry. Truth is, the memory that triggered my tears is always near the surface of my mind. It still shapes my actions.
It is the memory of a 17 year old girl who really wants to get on stage and act. That is her dream, her passion, everything she wants to be. But her feet hurt. A lot. Sometimes so much she can’t walk for days. Her mother, a nurse, decides the girl should see a podiatrist (foot specialist). The girl goes and works with the doctor for several months. He tapes her feet up every week – taping designed to pull the bones of her toes apart. He thinks her bones are crushing each other, and that is causing the pain. So the girl walks around with taped feet for months, but it doesn’t get much better. The girl asks the doctor what’s happening, will her feet ever be normal again. The doctor says no, that he thinks the girl will be in a wheelchair by the time she is 20. He says he can perform surgery for her, if she wants. The surgery can remove the scar tissue that’s building up, but it can’t fix the problem. The girl is terrified. No one is at that appointment with her. When she gets home and tells her family, no one reacts to the news. It seems no one cares. Her family never discusses this medical condition with her, they never talk about her options.
I didn’t get the surgery. I was so terrified, to be honest, that I stopped seeing that doctor. I pushed myself thru every pain – and trust me, for years it felt like I was walking on crushed glass. I mimicked what my family gave me: I said no more, and treated it like it didn’t exist.
But those words have stuck with me a lifetime: you’ll be in a wheelchair.
Considering how much I sit on my ass, you’d think that wouldn’t bother me so much. But it does. It bothers me unbelievably much. Part of me worries I’ve only delayed the inevitable. That I’m destined for the chair.
*sigh* A few days off my regular pain levels and see what happens? All sorts of shit surfaces. The knot around this disease in my head holds many threads. It’s tied to my family, my self-esteem, my dreams and the dreams I gave up on. It has run through every day of my adult life, and I don’t know exactly how to extract myself from it.
I do know how to slog thru life with it, tho. It’s an unpleasant thought, to be sure. But I’ve been that cat hanging on the limb for so long now I’m used to it. Back to the burn, back to the struggle. Back to hanging.