My parents were the poster children for maintaining their cars to last for years. Regular oil changes, careful maintenance and above all, shelter from the elements via a garage. I am that car today. As I age, I am aware that my parts are starting to wear. Parts are being exchanged for newer ones and I am currently in the mode of accepting that this is what the aging process will entail.
On Monday, I will be having a “Right posterior tibial debridement versus tenotomy flexor Digitorum longus tendon transfer, calcaneal osteotomy, cotton osteotomy, Achilles lengthening”. For those of you who aren’t into medical lingo, I can simplify it by stating that this means, my foot is fucked up. It is really the result of poor workmanship when I was created. Look, I put in an order for arches in my feet, but was given pancakes treads. I’m not saying that God made a mistake, but I will say that it is possible that the workers that he put in charge of that area were not competent. It’s like I ordered a combo meal and they forgot the fries.
Three years ago, I had the same procedure on my left foot. Some women are focused on lifting their boobs, tucking their stomachs, or freezing their face, I am opting for foot lifts. While vanity might be playing a part in the fight against aging, I am doing it for more selfish reasons. I would like to walk without pain. Crazy, right?
It is a six week stint of non-weightbearing. I have crutches, a scooter, and a wheelchair as transportation options because I need to have choices. When all is said and done, I will have a newly reconstructed foot that will be stunning. It will be perky with its sleek arch and shiny hardware. Honestly, as suggested by one of my best friend’s daughter, I might try my hand on OnlyFans. Feet are hot commodity for some individuals. Joking. Maybe. I have months to think about my new career path. In the meantime, I will be embracing my one-legged stance.