Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Just when you think things are going along swimmingly someone pulls the plug. That's what happened this week while on an enforced but very pleasant vacation in Canada. One day I'm happily walking around the Vancouver seawall from Gastown to Stanley Park and the next I'm hopping on one foot because the pain in my ankle is excrutiating.
Of course there was no public transport and no taxis at that point so I hobbled the last kilometre or so. And then being an extremely cheap type, I refused to take a taxi the few blocks back to the hotel. So I hopped and hobbled and wimped until we got back and received zero sympathy from the husband who was mad because I wouldn't let him get a cab. A bucket of ice later I examined the foot and there seems to be a large, hard lump on the back of the heel at ankle height and it hurts like crazy.
Full disclosure: the heel/ankle has been making me aware of its existence for a while now but I thought diet and exercise would fix it. It gave me grief in Boston because we were walking a lot so I wore trainers all the time but once I put my stilletos on, the tenderness disappeared. I stretched it and iced it and if I walked around on my tiptoes I didn't know I had a problem. How's that for denial?
Well, now I'm back and I dragged myself to the doctor with my diagnosis: plantar fasciitis and he wasn't impressed. He thought it too high on the foot for that and sent me for an xray. The xray revealed no broken bones or fractures but did indicate evidence of an old injury. What? Did I break something and not notice? How old an injury? Maybe when I was in my bassinet. I sure don't recall anything.
I have an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon in September. I'm hoping it will resolve itself before then. I can deal with the pain but not with filling out another bunch of forms and signing one of those "privacy notices".