I have forsaken my Shoe as of this past weekend on account of two things. One, after walking with it for even a short while, I develop a sharp pain in my ankle. I attribute this to a sickening “dislodging” that I feel coming from my ankle as I lift and set my foot back down. I think, after two weeks, it had simply taken too much abuse being oddly angled in two directions. Two, I was just sick of it. Sick of lumping about, very slowly, sick of being dependent on everyone, and I really missed driving.
And, I hate to admit it, but this Shoe brought out one of my worst OCD tendencies – a fear of gross germs. I had to wear this to bed for fear of damaging my toe, and I simply could not put this thing in bed with me after having worn it outside, on the street, in bathrooms without cleaning. Every night I would take it off and douse the bottom with Lysol and let it sit while I took a shower, then I’d clean it off, making sure nothing was sticking to it. Even then, I didn’t feel entirely confident it was clean, but something had to give.
So for the past few days I’ve been gimpin’ about without my Shoe and it’s been okay. My toe is sensitive, but I’m being very careful with it. I don’t bend down on that foot, I don’t lean on that foot, I don’t do anything dependent on my right foot. I’m still kind of amazed at how sore it can get from doing very little. I fear going to my doctor tomorrow for the follow up and finding out that I’ve just undone two weeks of healing, but I think maybe I’m overworrying.
What I safely worrying about is tomorrow night’s Rush show. I can gimp about the house and even around relatively long distances at work okay. But that’s nothing compared to a concert, where I’ll be walking much farther than I’ve walked and standing for much longer than I’ve stood in nearly three weeks. This is one of those times when I wish I had a cast or crutches or something recognizable as the medical implementations for healing a broken bone. If I have to spend the concert sitting, and I’m the only one, I’m going to look like the fuddy-duddy who doesn’t really want to be there. If you are there and you see me looking concerned, it may just be that I’m praying that the crowds on the way out are gentle with me and don’t step on my foot.