gratitude-a-thon day 412: foot pains and head games

Photo on 9-19-14 at 8.22 AM
Stop looking at my unmanicured claw, and focus on the screw in my foot.

Reporting here on day 8. I have been taking my stupid, heavy, big and clunky boot off and giving my poor little foot a breather every few hours, and yesterday, while it was off, graceful gal that I am, I bumped my big toe on a chair in my den, which hurt, and of course, practically freaked me out of my Lululemon yoga pants (yes, I still wear them, and no, I’m not really proud of myself, but yes they are the best yoga pants for slimming and sucking in your fat, so while they insult my principles as a company, I have my priorities (my fat ass) and that is that). Anyway, it seemed to hurt in the area formerly known as “the bunion,” all day, but really only when I walked on it. I am worried that maybe I shook something out of place, like the hardware in there. I was half expecting to wake up with the screw that is now holding the bone together, rolling around my bed. Don’t you love my fertile and colorful imagination? Anyway, if you’re praying for anything today, throw a line in about my foot health, wouldja? I’d appreciate a novena, or like, whatever you got.

Prayers of any denomination are welcome. Is there like a Saint of the foot?

Yesterday was another day in front of the tv, and I have to admit to starting to feel that unproductive feeling that recovery of anything physical, always makes me feel. Having been a sick kid, with a bad back since college, and endometriosis and infertility, and a fragile immune system from a childhood of antibiotics, that makes me get anything floating around for 17 times as long as anyone else, I have had my share of having to lay on the couch, or in my bed recovering. I hate it. A lot. I never feel like I’m allowed to just lay there and get better, and still be a respected citizen. I always feel like I should be doing something, like the really together people out there (who received the Big Rule Book on Life, that I did not receive) would take this time of forced convalescence, to scan their 8,456,916 pre-digital photography pics, or write a novella, or knit a house. But I just can’t seem to get myself together to do much more than eat potato chips. Argh…..


You guys got this, didn’t you. I didn’t. I keep thinking it might still come…..

Anyway, while in this sort of down mood I was in yesterday, the doorbell rang and there was a delivery man holding a bouquet of chocolate dipped strawberries. I grabbed them from him, barely saying thanks, and ripped open the card. It was from one of my favorite clients, and not only wished me a speedy recovery, but also told me how much they liked this blog, and how much it made them laugh! I didn’t even know they read this blog, let alone laughed at it. And just like that, I felt much better! Of course, who wouldn’t feel better with some chocolate dipped strawberries going down their throat? It could have been the chocolate that improved my mood, but I’m pretty sure it was the thoughtfulness of my client. I kind of couldn’t get over it. So big shout out to the best client ever, Thread.

My client sent me chocolate dipped strawberries. C’mon, is that nice, or what?

Also, I got the cutest card from my friend Charlie’s mom, who I would very much like to adopt me, and a call from my cousin Barb, who made me laugh. And then icing on the cake, my friend Colleen is here visiting, taking some time away from her new and awesome life in Cali. and brought me a gift certificate for my first post-op pedicure at Mini Lux. So, although I was worried about the possibility of having maybe screwed up my foot, and that I was a slacker patient, I ended the day on a rather hopeful note, with friends and family helping me to remember, that this too shall pass (although not nearly soon enough for me). Fucking Namaste.

gratitude-a-thon day 412: this boot isn’t made for walking

One of the best places to eat in Brookline Village (or anywhere, for that matter).

Why hello, have you heard enough about my bunion surgery yet? I myself have heard enough about my bunion surgery for a lifetime, and yet, because my everyday life has been greatly curtailed in an effort to get to walk around and experience more things to be grateful for, it’s sort of front and center, whether I’ve had enough of it or not.

Anyway, yesterday was one week since that bump wound up in some Hazardous Waste bin. As you saw, from my five star, traveling-the-festivals, bound-to-get-me-to-the-Oscar-red-carpet movie, it appears, though swollen and discolored that my bunion really no longer exists. It’s kind of a dream come true for me, if it weren’t for this very limited activity diet, and this boot that weighs like, as much as a small farm. I did actually go out to lunch yesterday, which was kind of awesome, but getting around with the boot and crutches is very tiring. Nonetheless, I got to enjoy some of the perfect weather that September is dishing out, along with my sister and brother-in-law, and had an absolutely heavenly eggplant sandwich at KooKoo Cafe, which if you have not been to, you should get out of bed and go to right this minute. It’s adorable and funky and has really fabulous food, not to mention coffee. My sister, the freaking Jaun Valdez of coffee drinkers, gives it high marks, so there you have it. Plus Ali and Eli, the husband and wife who own it are some of the best people I know.

Spark: A Burning Man Story is the name of one of the documentaries we watched yesterday.
Photo of Bruce SPRINGSTEEN
Springsteen & I is a really fun documentary. It not only shows fans, it shows the man on stage at different ages.
Godzilla is really stupid. But why couldn’t we stop watching it?
I never wear dark polish. I am a Waltz, Marshmallow girl all year long, but it’s so hard to put on, and when your foot is still orange from antiseptic, and you can’t scrub it, you gotta go dark.

Yesterday was a movie-a-thon, which is par for the course when my sister and I are together. We watched a really good documentary on Burning Man, which made me want to go to Black Rock and see it for myself. We also watched another fun one on Bruce Springsteen, where fans tell stories about what Bruce means to them, and about different stuff that has happened at shows with the footage of the moment the people are talking about, plus some other priceless clips of old Bruce. Because I too am a pretty major Bruce fan, this was a great ticket. But it was slightly worrisome, in that I really wanted to dance but only having one foot available, I couldn’t, so I did some sad couch version with one leg and two arms flailing, while considering the terror of life without being able to have two feet. But I digress. Lastly, we watched Godzilla, which was really stupid, but for some reason, we couldn’t stop watching. We actually went to bed at 12:30 because Godzilla and Mothra were taking over San Francicso and we didn’t feel like we could leave it in such shambles just because we were tired.

I am going to actually do some work today, which will be a refreshing. I have not taken drugs in two days. I painted the toenails of my now bunion-less foot, which makes it look a little bit normal-ish, but of course, the attractive boot sandal takes away any fashion moment my Wicked by Essie nail polish might be providing. There you have it, people, day 7 post op. Grateful we’re progressing in the right direction. Keep your cards, cookies, flowers and gifts coming!


gratitude-a-thon day 411: no pain & real chips only

There will be no more baked chips for me, no more saved calories. Real chips only, from here on out.


Here we are on day 6 and ready to go to the doctor’s this morning! I am really anxious to see this foot.

So, yesterday, surprise, surprise, was more of the same, minus the Vicodin. Full disclosure: I did take a half later in the night, because I had a little discomfort, but none during the day. Yeah, pain level was non-existent, really. This boot, and that position are wearing me out, so I took a break, and didn’t elevate the entire day. My friend Ginny came over with a turkey wrap and some lavender foot cream, which I slathered on my unbooted foot immediately. I also asked her to bring real chips, vs baked chips, because I have decided no more baked chips. Fuck it, life is 5 seconds long, REAL CHIPS ONLY. She is so fun and also brought Ally cookies, which I gobbled one of, the minute she left.

Thanks Gin, this stuff smells great. My other foot was feeling so unloved, this was just the thing.

I have now completed the entire series Married, which is totally stellar. I painted the nails on my other foot. I finished my book. Oh, AND I TOOK A BATH. Yes, you heard right, this girl took a full on bath, and WASHED HER HAIR. I know you’re impressed. Yes, I am a superstar. Actually, it was easy. I shoulda done it days ago.

Okey Dokey Folky, I am getting up to get dressed. I haven’t been out of the house in a week. Feels to me like I need a coat. And maybe even boots. Oh, I already got one on. (I’m giddy with doctor’s appointment glee, can you tell).



gratitude-a-thon day 410: five days under my belt (or rather boot)

Sometimes when I take the Vicodin, I just stare into space. This is where I look a lot of the time. I love a Gerber daisy, don’t you?

Are you sick of me yet? I’m sick of me. Day 5, the boring bunion story.

So, pain was in play yesterday, and Vicodin was happening. No nausea. Thanks, V. Stayed in bed all day, with refreshing Fall breeze dancing through my window. Read magazines. Piles of magazines. Ate one of those delish sandwiches from Clover–Egg and Eggplant. Don’t ask me how they came up with this, because aside from these two items sharing the word “egg,” they got a whole lotta nothing in common, but they are uncommonly good together. I watched the new series “Married,” which is very funny. Peter and Ally went to Anthropologie and bought me a leather jacket to make me feel better, but it turned out to be “vegan.” I only do real leather, and I only eat real cow. Nonetheless, I appreciated the thought of them buying me a gift. I plucked my eyebrows.

I’m telling you, this is a sandwich you should have immediately.

Around dinner, I had a lot of pain. My friends brought over ribs and mashed potatoes, and while I didn’t think I was hungry, my friend opened up my boot and gave my poor strangled foot some air, and the pain got better, and those ribs made the whole world look like a very nice place.

Deb took off my boot and it made my foot feel so much better. Ahhhhh.

I don’t have any pain here this morning. I really want to take a shower because I am gross and disgusting, but I can’t really imagine having the balance to make it work. I go to the doctor’s in the morning, so maybe he will give me some more freedom and I will be able to bathe. A sponge bath is definitely in store for me today. As for my hair, well, forget my hair.

That’s where we stand, or don’t stand, on day 5. I’m ok. And I’ve made it this far, so PARADE.

gratitude-a-thon day 409: more of the same

Still here.

Day four. Buh-bye bunion.

It was Vicodin city yesterday. I had ’em in the morning, experienced no pain for a while during the day, and then spent the night with them. They aren’t making me sick, which is really good, and they do take away the pain, which is also really good, so Vicodin for president.

The pain isn’t intolerable, but it’s not something, I’d say, want to order on a menu for dinner. It’s sort of burny and throbby. And it shows up in funny places on my foot. Right now, it’s in my little toes. I’m really not going to complain about it as a thing, because truthfully, with the V., it’s tolerable.

Friends came over and laid on my bed with me yesterday, and frankly I fell asleep during one visit. Drugs will do that. I watched tv and read and really haven’t yet hit that point where I want to go out. This is good, because once that happens, things become much harder. I am really tired of having to have my foot on top of pillows 24/7, though.

I might try to do some exercise today, like on the floor on a mat. That should be interesting. It’s Sunday, so the Times will keep me company for a while. If only I could easily get downstairs to get it. Everybody’s still sleeping.

Ok, only two more days until the big reveal at the doctor’s office, and like maybe a new set of rules, like one that says, you can walk around. That would be fucking great. Happy Sunday, everybody.


gratitude-a-thon day 406: feeling no pain (and taking no vicodin)

Life in the fast lane. Ha!

Day Two, The Bunion-less Diary

I still didn’t have any pain yesterday(cue the cheerleaders/Mormon Tabernacle Choir/angelic harps), but man I was tired. I slept on and off all day long. I couldn’t really concentrate on tv, but I am reading a really funny book called This is Where I Leave You. It’s just the sort of writing I love, sharp, witty and all about relationships. The movie is coming out in like a week, and has Jason Bateman, Tina Fey, Adam Driver, Corey Stoll and Jane Fonda. Score. I hope it will go to the Super Luxe in Chestnut Hill where a gimp like me can get into a barcalounger and laugh. Because I still don’t have any pain, I guess the nerve block is still in play. I am taking a souped up anti-inflammatory called Toradol, but that’s it.

The boot is really sort of heavy. Considering decorating it, although how can you miss with basic black? I am definitely longing for a shower, but it would be too much to manage at this point, so I might need to do a little sponge bath today. Where are the cute male nurses when you need them? I am dying to see the foot and what it looks like. But I’m not a rule breaker and the boot is supposed to stay on.

So far, so good. I haven’t even let myself even think about the reality that the bunion isn’t there anymore, I’m much more focused on just trying to get through this period of rest, elevate, ice. But wouldn’t it be cool if I didn’t have a bunion anymore and my foot worked well, and I could wear shoes? Sounds like a fairy tale to me, but hey, I believe in fairy tales.

gratitude-a-thon day 404: bunion voyage

Don’t worry about the veins–I’ve always been veiny, even when I was young. We’re looking at the bulge on the left foot. That’s the thing we’re getting rid of. And if you’re thinking it’s purely a cosmetic procedure, you’re wrong. This bump is taking over the joint.
Here are normal (and beautiful) feet. See how the two toes meet.
Here are my poor little feet. See how the left one is trying to exit stage left ?


Tomorrow at this time I will be all valiumed up, awaiting 7:30 departure for bunion surgery. It’s only been a lifetime in the making, and 10 years of trying to muster my courage, find the right doctor and do it. This thing has plagued me in the middle of the night, when I worry that it will take over and I won’t be able to exercise or walk. It’s forced me to give up one of the world’s great pleasures: shoe shopping. Plus it’s ugly. Plus it’s gotten so big, it’s starting to order its own meal in restaurants (that’s where I draw the line).

I won’t be able to do much for a week, but rest, ice, elevate. And then I’ll be in a boot. And then I’ll be in physical therapy. And then I’ll be in like really ugly wide boxy sneakers, and then around January, I might be able to get myself into some sort of cute-ish real life shoes. Yeah, this is going to be a long haul.

In the end, I hope I’ll have made a smart choice. Sometimes you have to live by the words of Nike and “Just do it.” I sure hope this is one of those times.