About six months ago, my husband developed what are mistakenly called, by most of us, bone spurs. The real name for the problem is plantar fasciitis, but who could remember that? Our family doctor told him there's really nothing to be done for the condition except to wear shoe inserts, and indeed, the inserts have helped Cliff somewhat.
My ex-daughter-in-law has done many things trying to relieve her heel spur pain, including surgery. But she tells me the thing that helped her most was having shoe inserts made specifically for her feet. The cost was $800, but insurance picked up most of the tab. Cliff figured if our family doctor says there's no remedy for the problem, he isn't about to go chasing after a cure.
About a month ago, I began having the same sort of heel pain Cliff had been describing; I got the name of my ex-daughter-in-law's doctor, and had my appointment yesterday. He gave my heel a shot of cortisone, which, surprisingly to me, did help somewhat. And they'll call and let me know whether my insurance will cover the cost of those high-dollar inserts.
After the shot, the doctor covered my foot with a bunch of tape and told me to leave it on for five days and keep it dry. Huh?
"What's this for?" I asked.
"To support the ligaments."
It will amaze me if the tape stays on my foot, but if it does, I'm trying to figure out how I'll take a bath or shower and keep one foot dry. All the mental images I conjure up make me laugh. Anyhow, just how much support is a bunch of tape?
All of this reminds me of a poem I wrote about my feet several years ago.
I’ve taken walks for many years. I seldom miss a day;
It’s then I seem to hear from God, and find the time to pray.
I took for granted two good feet that carried me along,
And seldom thanked the Lord for them… till everything went wrong!
In fact, I griped about them. They were hideous to me,
And several sizes larger than a lady’s feet should be.
Shoes were so confining that I didn’t wear them much,
Except when going shopping, or to Sunday school and such.
Now, when a person won’t wear shoes, her feet get stained from grass
And spread out even larger, and look unrefined and crass.
The calluses grow thicker, and unsightly scars appear
From all of the abuses heaped upon them, year to year.
One day my foot was injured as I went about the farm
(Keep tempting fate for long enough, and you will come to harm).
The doctor took some stitches, and it put me in such pain
That I could see there’d be no walks. That fact was very plain!
Well, now I can appreciate the things my feet can do…
So many years I’ve used them, and they always got me through.
Who cares if they’re not sexy feet, or delicate or small?
I’ve learned to thank my Maker that I have these feet at all.
Two weeks I couldn’t take my walks; my foot was slow to heal,
But I can count my blessings with a gratitude that’s real.
This whole experience is one I hope I don’t repeat,
But one thing I have gained from this: I’ve come to love my feet!