18 December 2001
Last year: The surgery, for those of you who didn't receive my e-mail from the land of Narcotia on Friday, went very well.
I'm pretty clumsy first thing in the morning. Sometimes I think it has to do with the kink in my ear canal, and sometimes I think I'm just clumsy when I'm sleepy. I dunno.
Anyway, this morning I nearly tripped and fell sideways while I was in the shower. If I hadn't caught myself, it could well have resulted in a broken leg.
I shivered over the unpleasant possibilities, then thought, Well, if I broke my leg, at least I wouldn't have to walk all over Chicago.
No, I'm not that desperate to get out of walking around, but it would've been a silver lining.
There are two base problems with these trips into Chicago with my mother-in-law, that are not caused by, but are compounded by, my chronic foot problems.
First: She's a good six inches taller than I am, and in much better shape. She's used to walking at speed, with a long, ground-eating stride. Even back when I was in good shape, I took short steps. Compounding problem - if I try to stretch my stride to match, it puts a painful strain on my heels; and if I try to walk that much faster, I end up with cramps in my calves or arches.
This one is actually fairly minor. I've spent over a decade hanging out with people significantly taller than I am. The solution is: Walk at the speed and stride I'm comfortable with, and let them figure out whether they'd rather slow down for me, or get ahead and wait every so often.
The other problem is more, well, problematic. Jill is an elementary school teacher. She's used to being on her feet for long periods of time. And even back before I got fat and developed fascitis, I couldn't stand to be standing for more than about half an hour at a stretch.
A simple four-hour shift working at a department store in high school - when I was thin and in good shape, mind you - had me nearly in tears. I live in awe of people who are on their feet for whole days. It's one of the big things keeping me from seriously considering becoming a teacher, because I know some school systems have policies against teachers sitting on stools or whatnot while they're teaching.
Which means that by the time we've walked from the bus station to the museum, I'm already ready to sit down. And by the time we've gone through the museum and looked at everything, my feet feel like someone's been hitting them with a stick.
And the worst part is, I actually like going to the museums and seeing the displays. The things we saw on our last trip were breathtaking, and I'm glad we saw them. The exhibit Jill wants to take us to next week sounds absolutely fascinating, and I really do want to see it.
It's just that sometimes I think certain portions of my life really would be easier if I were in a wheelchair.
(This has been the obligatory pre-trip whine. I'll shut up and stop whining now.)
Word of the Day:
yokel - a naive or gullible inhabitant of a rural area or small town
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