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Joints

A 2-post collection

Dawn breaks...

Not literally. No. This is a metaphorical dawn. A dawn in the mind.

Followers of my ramblings - the ones who aren’t bots - will know I recently discovered the anti-joy of having a spur in my heel.

It’s painful to walk, most of the time. So I have gained a new appreciation of being able to walk without pain.

And last night… I cooked a meal for the first time in four fargnaxing weeks.

It was a triumph. Nothing fancy. Just pork mince in butter chicken simmer sauce with veggies and pasta. I was overjoyed.

I’m guessing the rest of you are less than impressed, but think about it. Really think. Imagine being unable to walk very far at all for four weeks.

Four frikking weeks. Four weeks of watching the house go to shit and eating pre-packaged snackies because they can be carried to one’s chosen resting spot in a plastic bag. Four weeks of having someone assist you when you need a drink. Four weeks of it being way too much to reach the dishwasher/sink/laundry/bathroom or rubbish bin.

Twenty-eight days of watching your hard work turning into a gigantic slob trail.

Of course, the first day off my crutches, everyone instantly expected me to be All Better and transform into SuperMum and thus wise reverse entropy in a whirlwind of activity.

Even with the heel inserts, it hurt like walking on knives, halfway through the day. I spent all my spoons and was utterly exhausted by the kids’ bedtime.

Three days later, most of the time it’s “stones” or “beads” under my bad foot and I can handle that. Sometimes, it’s “knives” again and I still have to cope because I’m supposed to be all better and nobody is going to help a “malingerer”.

I miss my life before I whacked 90-some kilos of me onto one tiny little spur.

But I can also see the potential of that life coming back. Slowly.

I am never going to take it for granted again.

Everyone who can walk - be glad you have feet that support you, and knees that don’t suddenly decide to quit with a loud “snap” and a pain like being shot. Be grateful you can take one step after the other with blithe breeziness. Be thankful you can run. I still haven’t made the attempt because running requires all of one’s weight landing on one heel again.

It won’t kill me, I’m sure, but it might just make me wish it could. Or set me back into a chair and crying because entropy is winning again.

Be grateful that you don’t have to play “let’s see if I can climb stairs, today” - by the probably painful expedient of trying to mount one stair. It’s odds evens that that “crack and snap” might happen and I’ll be a whimpering heap.

This is why I habitually carry Deep Heat and all my bracers in my purse. Just in case this is the day I’ll need them.

I have a good day when I can muscle through my joint pain or foot pain and get things done anyway. I have a brilliant day when there isn’t any joint pain or foot pain.

And I am getting better. Glacially slowly.

Here’s to more brilliant days.

Farging roadblocks!

No, this is not about traffic.

I seem to be cursed to stay at or above 91.9 kilos.

I bounced back up into solid 92kilo turf, today. Grrr.

I’m so mad at myself and frustrated and tired and, to add insult to injury, my right knee has decided to join my wrists in the Painful Rheumatism Club.

Which means I more or less have to rely on diet alone on the days when it’s painful to move.

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