The Swim to My 50s – I was meant to be carried on a bed with a canopy and curtains and fed grapes to

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This, according to a health provider that used to treat my feet and body when I was first diagnosed with RA.    She worked on trigger points and would try to alleviate my aching and rapidly deforming feet.

When nothing seemed to help, she simply looked at me and said, Your feet were not meant for walking.  You, my dear, should be carried on a ‘litter’ (a bed with four posts, a canopy and curtains) and fed grapes to.

I couldn’t agree more.

When God made me, this must have been part of his plan.  He knew that my feet would not be able to carry any weight and that my other joints would also fail me.

I am almost 50 and I have yet to see a litter parked in my driveway.  Where are the shirtless men in cloth diapers ready to carry me to my destination?  My old Toyota Camry has no curtains and although it sports a sun roof, it’s just not the same.

I have discussed most of my other body parts in earlier posts.  My feet, however, require a blog of their own.

I inherited my feet from my dad.  Size 9, wide, a long big toe and beautifully protruding bunions {I apologize if you have a foot fetish and I am turning you on right now}.  This is where my dad’s and my feet’s similarities end.  Now, picture these feet turning out to the sides with my bully of a big toe leaning and squashing the other more, fragile and helpless toes.  Not a pretty sight.

It is a good thing that I never understand what the ladies who do my pedicures are saying but I can guarantee you that as they are smiling at me, they are aghast at the sight of my feet and pretend not to notice.

Before RA, I wore all kinds of shoes.  My favorites were the stilettos I wore while frequenting the discos.  I am now the not-so-proud owner of several God-awful Crocs.  Pink and black.  And, I even have the winter ones with fur inside.  But once I had surgery on my left foot, my selection expanded again.

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Crocs

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I won’t even tell you what a nightmare the surgery was and how much I suffered.  It was so bad that I had my mom ask our priest if he could stop over to visit me, as I lay in bed for 4 months, recovering.  

There is a funny story about this day that I have to tell you.  After sitting at my bedside reassuring me that things would get better and to continue to have faith, Father asked me to pray with him.  He asked me to say my Hail Marys.  Now, I don’t pretend to be super Catholic, but at least a moderate one…at best.  I froze when he asked me because I, for the life of me, could not remember it!  Hail Mary, full of grace… After what seemed to be hours of silence as he waited for me to begin, I asked him if he would say it with me.  He agreed and began reciting it with his eyes closed.  I stared at his lips and tried desperately to match his words, accentuating the ones I remembered and mumbling through the words I had forgotten.  Not my proudest moment.

So now, I have one straight foot that has permanent nerve damage, with an even longer big fused toe (which I ended up jamming and breaking after the surgery) that is a size 9.5 and that prefers narrow fashionable shoes.   And, one deformed size 9 wide foot, that requires the comfort of…Crocs.

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Ain’t they purdy…

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 I have often said, to those who will listen, that I refuse to operate my right foot unless I can be put in an induced coma for 6 months while it heals.  Needless to say, I have accepted the fact that I will be living my next 50 years with mis-matched feet.

I think I will say my Hail Marys every night until my birthday and hope that on that morning, I will wake up to find a huge shiny red bow taped to my new state of the art, loaded litter {men in cloth diapers feeding me red grapes – cuz green ones are too sour- included}, sitting in my driveway.

 

 

22 thoughts on “The Swim to My 50s – I was meant to be carried on a bed with a canopy and curtains and fed grapes to

  1. On grape feeding, I saw true love demonstrated on one of my trips to the Mideast. I saw this tiny, little guy feeding his wife grapes from a bunch as she sat on a bench in the hot sun.
    He was about 80 lbs and she was easily 300 lbs at least and you could sense the love. I did not take a pic out of respect for their privacy, but it was such a romantic scene!

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  2. You could say that that big toe IS mighty mighty,….just letting it all hang out! Mama…you are surely the BrickhouseChick in all the very best ways!

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  3. I think I love you even more. Thanks for sharing something so personal with us. I’ll be praying that your litter arrives soon. Keep rocking your awesome, gifted spirit on your blog. 🙂

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  4. My dad has had RA for half his life. I barely remember what it was like for him to be any different now. He had foot surgery – hand surgery too. I wish he had been able to have the surgery earlier. It wasn’t able to straighten much, but it took away the pain. We call him the bionic man – he has more new joints than original parts I think 😉

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      1. He is nearly 80 and power chair bound now. My mom died a year ago and we had to get a caregiver for him because he is at the point he can’t do anything for himself. But his mind is still strong. Hard to watch. But his is a severe case

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  5. My hair therapist just had foot surgery, and it was brutal. I don’t think she would endure it again, either. Here’s to where your mismatched feet will take you, Maria, litter or no litter.

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  6. As a member of the Fibromyalgia Club I can really relate to the pain you must feel always. I went thru 4 surgeries (both wrists for carpal tunnel, shoulder surgery, sinus surgery-which was the only one that did me any good, at least the sinus surgery stopped my frequent bouts of bronchitis) and I never want to go thru another surgery ever. Turning 50 wasn’t as bad as I feared, in fact I embraced it and except for the broken rib I got from a too tight hug from hubby, it just seems to get better and better (repeat as often as needed until you believe it-took me awhile :D).

    I’m a shoe admirer but oh the pain! I practically live in my Uggs, most comfort my feet have ever felt.

    Good luck with everything and I wish you litters carried by hunky men feeding you all the red grapes of you want.
    gentle hugs! xx

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    1. Thanks so much for your kind words, Joanne! Sorry to hear that you belong to the Fibro club as well. Pain is just part of our everyday! It sounds like you have a good attitude and try to make the best of your situation. Ouch on the broken ribs! 🙂

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      1. Aww you are a sweetie aren’t you? (the answer would be yes lol)
        It’s funny in a way because my entire life one of the things I never handled well was pain of any kind, so I guess sometimes life hands you your worst fear and makes you deal with it.
        I’ve been in the Fibro club for well over 10 years, did the whole range of pain meds etc (which was more of a vicious circle of unending pain then anything) but once I took myself completely off any pain meds, I actually feel a lot better- I can’t get rid of it so I have no choice but to deal- as for the 50 thing; I still occasionally sing with my rock band (took a hiatus while recovering from Hurricane Irene) and I feel nowhere near 50 when I’m up there…the next day is another story lol

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