... unless you do...
Get ready to offer some cheese for my whine.
The new boot feels lighter. It is also super cool. It has an air bladder to pump which creates air pockets around the ankle, thus filling in any gaps in the fit. I own the Air Jordan of boots. The boot has a lower profile and maneuvers more easily in the car and does not feel as bulky as the high profile boot. The new boot also keeps more pressure off my foot. Another fantastic feature? The sole has a lower height. I can wear sneakers or thick soled Sketchers and not feel off-balance.
The downside of the new, lower profile boot, is that it fails to rock comfortably when I walk. Where the big boot rocked back-and-forth easily when walking, the new boot forces a funky (and yet, not cool) stride. It jars the knee and lower back. I will get it eventually, right. Right?
Both boots sap energy like my own personal kryptonite. The aftermath of running errands in a boot mimics a very long run - but without the fantastic endorphins and personal pride to make it worth it. Two hours of anything in the boot leaves me exhausted and much like a limp rag.
So, what's the point of all this belly-aching?
My foot hurts like a beast. Truly.
Getting off my foot by using the crutches to get around the house - without the annoyance of putting on a multi-strapped boot - and wearing the boot every time I have more than five minutes of work to accomplish seems to have given my foot a chance to rest and heal. (I think.) Now, any pressure on my unshod, crutch-free foot results in lingering pain. My toes hurt. The outside of my foot hurts.
Why? Should I be on it more? Should I ignore what the orthopedic surgeon and his partners suggested and just use the foot normally? Does the increase in pain with less use mean it needs more use or that it finally has a chance to heal (if the pain is, indeed, coming from a sports injury)? Do I really have melorheostosis (mee-lore-hee-oh-stow-sis)? If I do, will this pain be with me for the rest of my life and I need to just learn to buck-up-camper and get on with my life and accept I need to muscle through the pain?
Hopefully the Muscular Skeletal Oncologist can offer some insight Wednesday afternoon.
Eh. Pout. Snort. Snarl. Hiss.
On the lighter side, chances are good I am the only chick on the block with two - yes, two - boots and a set of crutches.
I'm fancy like that.
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