Any person who believes “You can’t keep a good woman down” has never experienced foot surgery as I did recently. Not only was I down most of the time, but when I was upright, I was fully reliant on a knee scooter or an aircast, which made me feel like Bigfoot.

Foot surgery was not a choice, but a necessity. After years of uncomfortable bunions, I noticed the bunion on my right foot pushing a toe up, limiting my ability to walk without pain. After consulting with a podiatrist who advised surgery “sooner rather than later,” I decided to have surgery during my monthlong Christmas break.

Although I had been told the recovery was 8-12 weeks, I had no idea how inactive and limited I would be.

After the surgery and four days of not walking, I was told by my doctor, “I want you to do nothing for two weeks.” Due to my lack of ambition, hearing this made my day – or weeks. But then I could hear my father saying, “If you do any less, you’ll stop.”

To have some holiday joy since I would be home alone, I held an ongoing Open House. I had decorated, shopped and baked before surgery, so my friends were free to drop by. Although I wondered if maybe no one would show up, I had 13 visits.

For five weeks I was unable to drive, so I was glad I had stocked up on books and movies. Naps were also good although I wish I had a Victorian fainting couch.

Unlike the Fitbit followers who revel in the number of steps they get in each day, I found creative ways to limit mine.

I became good friends with Otto’s Pizza Read St. delivery, ASAP taxi, and Hannaford’s “To Go,” Westbrook.

Besides taking me to surgery, my neighbor and friend Jen helped me in many ways – doing errands, making Christmas dinner and keeping me company. Another neighbor moved my car in snowstorms.

Five weeks after surgery I was back at work but in an aircast. And after 10 weeks I could walk in sneakers. But soon I noticed I was in pain and my second toe, which had also had surgery, was preventing me from walking correctly.

Twelve weeks after the first, I had a second surgery. “A little bump in the road,” my friend Sally, ever practical, said. Actually no, it was a bump in the toe.

So here I am on my March vacation, a staycation for sure. I wonder if I will ever see sandals again.

“You’re a warrior,” a student had called me, “for coming back to work with that cast on.”

But whether I can fight this battle again when’s it time for my left foot’s surgery remains to be seen.


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