The Little Matter of the Big Toe

My First Ray

I am not happy. I am writing but I am not happy. I am grumpy and I still feel the residual sting of the exercise in my knees and big toes and the ball of my foot. I don't like it. I really and truly don't! 

Sulk as I might all day the truth is Me is very proud. Proud of the fact that I finally got off my bum and knelt to do the prescribed exercises. It's been a week since I last saw the physiotherapist and I can't fully explain the reason for stopping braps!-suh! 

Me done know say I already made lots of progress. From a complicated fracture and dislocated ankle months ago, to now being able to curl my toes and then walk without crutches and or that big boot; to being able to bend and pick up pencils; to being able to cook on my own in the kitchen; to driving when there’s little traffic; to this week - going out without wearing sneakers and socks.

Yeah, I still have to wear "safe” shoes even though they are open-toed and open-heeled. No stilettos, no ballerinas, no loafers or Mary Janes. Not even the kitten heels or sambas. We are just not there yet!

Me can carry a tray upstairs now but I somehow have to lean forward. And, going downstairs, me do a stoosh side-turn just to descend. These days, me can walk about on the job for a good part of the day. I get plenty of commendations for the progress made but my colleagues and students don't realise when my foot is stiff or fragile, ... or when I secretly wish for a masseuse to gently yet firmly pluck the bed of burr from the sole of my foot.

Me myself is smiling with each passer-by's affirmation. It adds sprite to my step. And, same time, Myself is also smiling to be polite. For, stopping to give the details of the progress would make me seem trite.

Me can now walk mini-distances with the weight of a water bottle, lunch bag, handbag and computer bag in my hands. But me still glad if someone offers to give me a hand by sharing the load.

A vibrant zentangle art piece by Gail Fraser depicts a foot seamlessly integrated into a lush landscape, reflecting the harmonious connection between human and nature.

Me looking forward to the day when I can jump and run safely. These days standing on tippy toes for 10 seconds is a delight!

Still, I have not exercised for a week! Myself reasoned that time-off was done. Progress time now come. So, this evening, I started on the floor, in the privacy of my room. I knelt and made my bum dip and say hello to my heels. I pushed through to complete each of the 3 sets. Of course, I stopped in-between, knelt on all fours and stretched each leg. By the time I got to 30 ME myself was cheering aloud. Indeed, I felt proud.

Time to level up! Back on my knees, I carefully tucked my big toes under and then I felt the protest. I got off them and sat to soothe and coax Myself. Really and truly, how could such a simple thing be so unreal? 

I argued that the pain means there is damage and further trouble ahead. 

Me said, “Really and truly, this is a construction zone;  Expect delays; Without pain there is no gain. Please proceed with caution.”

Myself reminded Me of the various times this has happened at each level of the "healing progress" and so, in the end, I got back unto my knees, curled the 1st ray and bent back enough for my bum to wave at my heels. Yup! Just wave. No words this time.

You see, my left foot was uncomfortable throughout. My arms, knees and core were determined. But it was the right big toe and foot that literally hurt. With even the whisper of a sit back the ball of my feet squealed. And plantar fasciitis became new curse words. All I know is that by the time I did the 20th I was ready to cry and cry and cry. Why?

There was no ray of sunshine or optimism here. Instead, this is the duel that stalls progress. I don't want to do it anymore, for sure. I don't want to exercise. I don't like the huge effort and lack of flexibility. I don't like delays. I don't like the daily niggles or pain or fatigue in this chapter of my life story. I hate the fixed gaze, gritted teeth, heavy breathing and the raw feelings. 

Doing nothing is easier. Who wants to recover? With arms folded and chin pointed, I would rather snuggle beneath the cover. Tsk!

And this is the paradox: If I do nothing more, then my hips, knees, ankles and toes will remain locked. The race to complete healing will end. My cheerleaders won't be able to tell that there was so much more left to unlock. 

If I regularly exercise, then little by little, I will be able to properly squat, run, jump and dance again. I will be able to tippy toe stand steady and tall as a lignum vitae; or, drive from here to MoBay and back again. Aaaiiii!  If I regularly exercise I will graduate from the senior citizen body line.

Here is another thing Me, Myself and I recognised- this one little big toe (the hallux) teams up with the metatarsals in order to be my body’s anchor, engine, propeller, shock absorber and lever as I transition to sit or stand or move into a stride. Its just m’ one foot that broke but my entire body is affected significantly. That alone makes me want to cry.

Its just 26 bones in dis here one foot, you know. Its only one tenth of all the joints in my body and one thirtieth of all my skeletal muscles but, my whole body is out of line. Add that to my cries.

But, Myself sidled up sweetly. She wants me to imagine all the future activities I could miss out on, if I stop exercising. Perhaps I won't be able to explore Ras Natango’s cliff-side garden or walk-a-bout in Spain again. Or, perhaps, just perhaps, I may miss the opportunity to ski or bungee jump or scuba dive in coral reefs. Or, or—she dared to ask— what if I could be on a mission to the moon or sit upon a star?

Arrrgh! If opportunity knock and I miss out, I alone will sit and shield my foot from shame, while I sulk and bear the blame.

Me naah tell no lie- one way or the other the pain is ripe!

So anyhow you were near, you would hear me sniffle- 1st ray of progress. Aiii yah yaiii! From progress to immobilization to independence and full mobility; from limping to gliding; from tightness to extension; from stiff scar tissues to … memories of a time and accident overcome.

Truly, little by little, day by day I would move from discomfort to elegant triumph. And, Me, Myself and I realised that metaphorically this applies to other areas of life too. How many marriages get scar tissue? How many careers trundle because we guard ourselves from the discomfort that change demands? How many of us reside in hovels because we can't stretch our budget or plans? How many times do we postpone therapy because we would rather coddle the painful memories and recite the harried tale? Need I go on?

Me nuh t’ink so. The point done make already. You get the point, don't it?

But tell me, which area of your own life story feels a little locked up right now? What are you guarding? 

Drop your thoughts in the comments below—I'd love to hear your story. And if you want to see how this big little toe handles the next round of stretching, don't forget to subscribe and share! 

Aaaiii!

For me, at this stage, this one big little toe and its supportive partner - the other big toe- are my 1st rays to healing progress. You see, the left foot has been bearing the weight of discomfort throughout, and I still need both to work together. I would never want to lose or limit the other. 

Me will cry today and coax meself to do a little more tomorrow so that by the time you meet me in person, we can celebrate our triumphs.

Till then, walk good yah me Fren. Walk real good!