Enjoying the Time We Have Left

I was born with a birth defect called clubbed foot. My right foot was rotated inward and downward at birth. I had surgery when I was a baby to turn the foot right side up.

I don't remember the surgery, of course. I remember the braces. Not the Forrest Gump kind. These were hard plastic braces that sat into my shoes and rubbed my feet raw. I hated them.

I learned young that I'd never be a gymnast, because I couldn't point my toes. I dropped out of basketball my freshman year, because running hurt too much. I've never been able to wear heals.

For the past 5 years, I've worn only tennis shoes, as recommended by my specialists. There have been times when I've thrown myself a pity party and tried to find the perfect pair of dress shoes that I can wear. Trying on shoes is not a fun time. It never ends well. Luckily I have nothing to dress up for anymore, and no one in Hawaii cares about my big ugly tennis shoes. Although, I'm sure they're wondering why I'm not wearing sandals. Believe me, I wish I were.

Lots of people say, "Your foot looks fine. I don't see what the problem is."

Other people say, "You are really functional. You should be happy."

Both are right. If you looked at my foot, you wouldn't notice much. The scar is faded. You might think, "Her toes are squished."

The prognosis for this foot has always been poor. Specialist after specialist have told me there's nothing I can do to improve the foot. The range of motion cannot be improved. I should stay off of it as much as possible and ride the recumbent bike.

I have followed some suggestions and left others behind. I like walking, so I walk. I have taken dance classes. I have occasionally ran.

Up until six years ago, I wore little flat dress shoes which were fine as long as I only walked from my car to the desk and took them off while I was sitting at my desk. If I wore them to the grocery store after work, I'd pay. My foot would hurt. I would limp.

Clubbed foot is a shortening of the achilles tendon. Therefore, my right leg is an inch shorter than my left leg. This means my hips are kittywampus, and I have terrible hip, back, and neck pain.

I was diagnosed with arthritis at 30. I asked, "How much arthritis is normal for a thirty-year-old?"

"None," said Dr. Thone.

All my life doctor after doctor has said, "You're too young for this."

I have gone through stages of acceptance, grief, bargaining, blaming, and denial. A day doesn't go by that I am not aware of my bad foot. I am reminded of it every time I go up stairs or put on shoes. But, I can walk, so my life is functional. I will go for a while relatively unaffected, and then something will happen. Like, I'll dance all night at a wedding dance, and then limp for 3 days.

My foot has been getting worse. Back in February, I worked at a job where I was on my feet for 10 hours a day. My foot started getting numb and tingly on the top. It also hurt, but I could still walk. It didn't hurt the worst it had ever hurt.

I finally quit that job, because I couldn't physically handle it. The numbness and tingling in my foot continued. After a month, I decided to get it checked out. I told the doctor, "I worked this really hard job, and I'm afraid I jacked my foot up."

He said, "You didn't jack it up. It's just jacked up."

He then proceeded to explain that my big toe joint is beginning to fuse. He said the walking caused inflammation in the toe joint, and the numbness and tingling was because nerves run through the joint. He said, "The good thing is: once the toe joint fuses there won't be any more pain, because the joint won't move. You're almost there. There's not much movement left in the joint."

I scrunched up my face. I have a good friend who had her toe joints fused. She is in a lot of pain.

When I was 20 a podiatrist had told me, "That toe joint is going to be a problem when you are old."

I thought old meant 60. Not 40. I didn't ask what he meant by "problem," because I was only 20.

The lack of mobility in my toe joint is already causing me problems in yoga. It's getting harder to do a lunge or plank, because my toe will not bend. Downward dog may have to come off the table at some point. Luckily, yoga is one of those things that allows for modifications. I'm sure I'll continue to find ways to participate even with my limitations.

I'm freaking out because it's one more thing in a lifetime of things that have "gone wrong" with my foot. I didn't expect hallux rigidus. Hallux rigidus is not a cool Harry Potter spell. It's the medical term for a frozen toe joint.

I do wish there was a magic spell to undo this chronic atrophy. I wish my foot worked normal. I wish it didn't cramp up and go numb after walking for 20 minutes. I wish it didn't ache. I wish I could wear cute shoes. I wish my right foot had 100% reflexes, not 50%. I wish my legs were the same length, so I didn't have horrible back pain, which is a million times worse than the foot pain.

I know it could be worse. I know I am whining. One frozen toe joint is not the end of my life. My friend Shirley would say, "You need to change your perspective."

Shirley would be right. So, instead, I have decided to enjoy the last bit of the toe joint's life. I will enjoy it while it still moves. I will try not to be mad at it for not moving as much as it used to. I guess it's tired and worn out and done about all it can. It's not it's fault after all. I will enjoy the time I have left with it working. I will appreciate my lunges and planks and downward dogs, knowing that each one might be the last.