Having issues standing and/or walking has fallen into the category of that was so a month ago. No, I hate to admit, right now I hurt in places that just seem unfair and a low blow to my Karmactic belt. My quads have neverot knotted up to the degree I agonized over last night. I roller blade people. What a blow to realize the effects of two months of inactivity and record asthma and the emotional roller coaster of summer tore me down to a shadow of what I was before. As my blog indirectly talks about the surgery I underwent, I'll elaborate a little. I had two bunions on my right foot corrected, which involved wire in one and a pin in the other. The overhaul included relaxing the toes because hammertoe was not so evident, but the tendons in my foot stood out in neutral. All this surgery and the decision stemmed from the pain my foot and my body compensation caused so much back pain. I never understood how much I hurt all the time, until recently. My foot daily amazes me in the sheer complexity of just how much algebra and physics calculations my body crams into a size six shoe.
I am at a loss of words on how I feel as I finger the proverbial slap to the face I garnered from people who do not believe my foot actually hurts to the degree it does. All the past week of energetic enthusiasm have been marked off as a bi-product of self-medication. I am also reeling from admonishment of how some of my activities should be considered beneath someone my age. (#%$U#$U%* Hasn't that gotten old? With an eyebrow raised? (Oh really.. I guess sweaters are back in again too)
Ok. I wanted to draw a circle around myself as my hackles rose to new heights. How one can even begin to pass judgement on me was beyond comprehension as reasons why even go there loomed in my thoughts. I kept very quiet and didn't move, for fear I would resort to something simple: violence.
Oh I am still processing the entire turn of events and I feel victimized and judged by a self appointed morality patrol. I must suppress the vindictive sensation that comes up with my bile.
I am at a loss of words on how I feel as I finger the proverbial slap to the face I garnered from people who do not believe my foot actually hurts to the degree it does. All the past week of energetic enthusiasm have been marked off as a bi-product of self-medication. I am also reeling from admonishment of how some of my activities should be considered beneath someone my age. (#%$U#$U%* Hasn't that gotten old? With an eyebrow raised? (Oh really.. I guess sweaters are back in again too)
Ok. I wanted to draw a circle around myself as my hackles rose to new heights. How one can even begin to pass judgement on me was beyond comprehension as reasons why even go there loomed in my thoughts. I kept very quiet and didn't move, for fear I would resort to something simple: violence.
Oh I am still processing the entire turn of events and I feel victimized and judged by a self appointed morality patrol. I must suppress the vindictive sensation that comes up with my bile.
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