On April 28, the morning we would go spend our anniversary in Paris I woke with a horrible pain in my left foot.
I thought: oh well, walked a lot in Disneyland, and my feet both hurt yesterday. Oh well, it will get better as I walk. It usually would.
And then, a couple of hours later, as we were on our way to the Notre Dame, I collapsed in my husband’s arms and cried that I couldn’t do it anymore.
I took some painkillers, had some tea and walked on.
We sat on the terrace of Shakespeare and Company’s cafe, overlooking the Seine and the Notre Dame, when I felt like crying again. The pain didn’t want to go away.
We decided that enough was enough and we headed home, me with my arm hooked through my husband’s, limping and taking rest stops.
I rested up the days we were home, thinking I had sprained my ankle. The pain was excruciating and just going to the bathroom was agony.
It did take me a while to call the doctor though, but that Friday, I went.
She diagnosed me with heel spur, stating that I probably damaged the plantar fasciitis in the ridiculous amount of walking we did in Disneyland.
She said there was basically nothing that could be done about it, a “live with it” kind of diagnosis. She said I could try insoles, but they don’t help for everyone.
When we drove home, I cried in the car, desperate because my doctor had told me that the pain would be something I would have to get adjusted to.
Then I got angry.
An then, at home, I resolved to do whatever it took to get rid of the pain.
I hit the internet, talked to my husband, some of my friends, my mom.
And then the miracles began.
My friend recommended me compression socks.
Earlier that week, I had ordered an elastic sleeve thing because I read that they were amazing when you’d sprained your ankle. When my husband brought me the package, I read the word compression socks on the packaging and laughed at the synchronicity.
My friend also recommended a brand of sandals. I googled to see if they were available here and found them ridiculously expensive. Then I at random clicked on a site and found the kind of sandals I wanted.
I decided to buy them after all, and instead of the buy button, I clicked on a different colour. The last pair they had in stock in that colour was 50% off and in my size.
I researched further and an ad pointed me to a physical therapist in my neighbourhood who specializes in foot problems like this.
This, and many other tidbits I found, helped me make a plan. A plan to get rid of this heel spur, rid of the pain and back into health.
The signs come from everywhere, too. For the past three days, every time I sit down to pull a card from the Motherpeace Tarot, I draw the priestess of discs. On it, a woman sits doing yoga.
I am learning a form of yoga that is groundwork only. I had stopped doing yoga after the pain started, but now I know it will help me heal again.
Meanwhile, I am taking it slow, and I take my meds to help. I have started taking a stronger kind of my usual CBD oil, and it really helps me.
Moving like a turtle helps quiet my ever chattering brain too.
And the beauty of it all is, that I still can do my work, what I love. I write blog posts, edit short stories, plan, draw, everything.
The pain doesn’t distort my blessings, only my fear does. And you know what? It has nothing on the Lioness in me 🙂