January 17, 2014: what a day! This was the busiest, most event-packed day I've had in some time. I made a few mistakes, but the story has a happy ending.
Had another shoe fantasy while getting ready for work, and this time I decided to go for it. A new pair of suede boots (season-appropriate), that perfectly match my new cords and sweater for casual Friday at work. Yes, they have a bit of a heel, but they are Borns and seem very comfortable. I can put them on without screaming. My calendar at work is pretty clear, so I won't have to do much walking. I catch the shoe police napping and am not even questioned about my choice. Strike one.
I realize while getting dressed that my orthotics are downstairs in the shoes I wore yesterday. I'll pick them up when I get down there and put them in my shoes. I am halfway to work before I realize I failed to do that. I briefly consider turning around to get them, but quickly dismiss the idea. Strike two.
About mid-way through the morning, I realize that it doesn't matter whether I sit or walk, it's the angle of the shoe that makes my foot hurt. And not just my right foot. My left foot also hurts, as it has not worn anything with a heel for six months. And my ankle and knee are not pleased with my choice, either. I consider taking off my shoes at my desk, but fear my foot will swell and I won't be able to get them back on again. Foul ball.
At the end of the work day, I have just enough time to race home and pick up musicians for my patient, long-suffering husband's concert. As we are loading people and instruments into vehicles to drive to the concert venue, my patient, long-suffering husband asks if I want to change shoes. I quickly weigh the options. Changing shoes means a trip upstairs and a change of clothes and accessories. (I suspect that the females reading this are nodding their heads knowingly, while the males are scratching their heads in dismay...) I answer, "No, I'm fine." Strike three, but the catcher misses the ball.
It's a long night. For those of you who don't know, I assist my patient, long-suffering husband in running a fine arts series, which means that concert night is a busy one: setting up, selling tickets and CDs, doing an accounting after the concert, and tearing down. I know I am in pain, but am too busy to think about it enough to make a pain level determination. By the time we arrive back home late last night, I feel certain I've done irreparable damage and am cursing my poor shoe choice. I take off my boots, prepared for the worst.
And get a pleasant surprise. It is barely swollen, and it is red, but not purple and black. I keep it elevated for awhile and it looks even better. When I assess the pain level, I put it at about a 6. I beat the throw and am safe at first.
This makes two "good" days in a row, even with my ill-advised shoe experiment. In the long term, 6 is not acceptable, but for right now, it feels pretty good. Maybe the medication is starting to work at the higher level? In any event, I think I'll stick to sneakers this weekend.
I learned two things today: 1. I need to make better shoes choices right now. 2. Always run to first base on a third strike - every now and then you'll end up safe at first.
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