or: what my life has been about for the past ~month. Today marks Week Three + 2 days post-op of me deciding to go under the knife.
This is the culmination of a long road: it started with my grandmother…Gramma Brown….who always wore pumps and had the worst bunions ever. Somehow I took up the mantle – I swear it was when I wore those tight Jack Purcell sneakers when I was like 5 – and have had these charming projections from my feet ever since. When my co-worker Gina had the procedure done, I was curious.
I went to her doctor (having felt comfortable that I could ride off of her prodigious due diligence) and he used his standard M.O: don’t be knife-happy. Take preventitive steps and monitor. I did…got orthotics…new orthotics…and then finally, about 1.5 years later, he proudly pronounced that I was getting to an “advanced” stage. One of those rare situations where “advanced” is not a badge of honor.
Sadly my own experience corroborated this: I was starting to feel pain, despite my religious foot massages every night (ask my former roomies: they’ll tell you I worked my toes for ten minutes regardless of what was going on!), it was time to accept the fact, suck it up and do it. Stay tuned….