Today was my first
day of exercise since breaking my toe November 9th.
Not that the break is official since the wound – the one that limited my shoe selection to two still-painful choices – was considered so minor by my doctor that he told me to treat myself. (I wonder if people with feet smaller than a size ten run into things less frequently.)
Not that the break is official since the wound – the one that limited my shoe selection to two still-painful choices – was considered so minor by my doctor that he told me to treat myself. (I wonder if people with feet smaller than a size ten run into things less frequently.)
Three weeks of toes taped together and
complete lethargy is not the best combination when you have to get through the
carbohydrate festival that is Thanksgiving and Christmas, festooned in candy
and cookies, is slouching around the corner.
It was definitely
time to get up and do something. I figured that I could handle water
aerobics – no shoes involved at all. Plus, many of the other participants
mostly stay in one place and only occasionally swish the water while they chat.
Someday I’ll look up the statistics on pressure exerted by water when it is
moved with force. Today’s class wasn’t exactly painful, but the creepy factor
was definitely there since my gimpy, vulnerable toe was untaped and flapping
on its own.
Time to go write.
I’ve decided to spend the winter on short stories, which somehow are more
difficult for me to write than an entire novel. At least my rejections will now
have some variety to them. Fortunately, I have a self-imposed deadline and so
am putting my shoulder to the wheel a bit more than I might have. I need
something to bring to tonight’s fiction group.
Since I’m the one that started
the whole thing, there’s only so many times that I can say with a bright smile,
“Oh no! Let’s hear from you first!”
My sister has big feet like yours, and she does seem to injure herself more often than I do. Of course, my feet have continued to grow as I age, and now I order a shoe size up a size and a half from when I was young. I understand the need to exercise during these dangerous months, though. Hope you are feeling pretty okay after your water aerobics class. :-)
ReplyDeleteYes, at one time long ago I was a dainty nine and a half.
DeleteBut I am stabler than most in a high wind. . . .
Oh, your poor, mortified toe (with apologies to Mark Twain). How long can it be.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of mortified toes, I took an ingrown toenail to the podiatrist once, and told her my toe was mortified. She'd never heard of such a thing.
Yes, I do remember there was an earlier use and so had to look up your reference from Tom Sawyer (it is handy to live in the age of Google instead of spending the day with something poking at the edge of your brain):
Delete"What's the matter with you -- what is the matter with you, child?"
"Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!"
I got a shot of cortisone in my foot once. It was up there with labor pains.
ReplyDeleteI'd stay with the original pain instead!
DeleteSorry about the toe.
ReplyDeleteThanks, it's finally mending.
DeleteThe horror of broken toes is that you don't get a cool white cast people can sign nor do you get any sympathy for there is no obvious correction or wound. Sure hope you are dancing soon.
ReplyDeleteI did try to limp as much as possible.
DeleteKeep on writing. It's a lot of effort, but you don't have to use your toe.
ReplyDeleteYes, my output should have increased over these past few weeks.
DeleteAmazing how one little toe can mess up all plans the rest of the body had! Enjoy the love and attention and the laziness that you deserve.
ReplyDeleteUh huh. My husband would ask, "Go up and get the mail, will you?" and then remember I was wounded only when I came hobbling back, junk mail in hand.
DeleteI wear a size 8 to 8 1/2 and I have broken my toes many times...recently I clobbered one with my spinning wheel and it still hurts. I taped it together for a few days for support. The colors are wonderful:)
ReplyDeleteIn my world a size 8 almost qualifies as someone who's had their feet bound as a child.
DeleteAnd I was disappointed - the first day it started bluing up and then went back to my own boring flesh color.
I've heard that water aerobics is surprisingly hard! It is good exercise, supposedly. Maybe churning the water will help churn your imagination, for fiction-writing purposes. :)
ReplyDeleteOuch on the toe! and you could probably keep it taped while in the water, most sports tape is waterproof.
ReplyDeleteDouble ouch on the short stories. I learned in my writing course that a short story starts at 2000 words, anything less isn't a story. so all my Friday pieces are exactly that: pieces. Bits of stories, and try as I might, I just can't get them to 'go' anywhere. Maybe I could publish a book full of unfinished bits and pieces.
Well, Edgar Allen Poe, the man responsible for today's mystery stories, said that a short story should be long enough to be read in one sitting. So I guess it depends on how long - or short - you plan to sit.
DeleteHonestly, there are some fabulous very short stories. Look at Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants."