I have a major design flaw.
Actually, I have more than one, but this particular flaw is causing me a lot of pain right now.
You see, I have super-duper high arches.
Said arches lead to improper weight distribution in my feet.
My right foot, in particular.
I found out today that the poor design of my foot, along with walking on my treadmill, are the cause of my recent, and ongoing, pain.
X-rays only confirmed what the doctor suspected.
I have a stress fracture on the top of my foot.
No wonder it hurts so much.
I've been limping around since Thursday of last week, trying to manage the dogs, the kids, the household, without bending my right foot when I walk.
Not an easy task.
I've been popping Aleve, which has helped.
So has a nice big glass of Merlot.
I now have a lovely orthopedic shoe, designed to keep my foot immobilized, that I am to wear for two weeks; three if I still have pain.
So tell me, who's going to take the puppy out to poop at midnight?
Oh, and Sarah is still sick, so she's basically just taking up space and using up tissues right now.
Michael is still a continent away.
Poor Melissa.
It's not easy being the only able-bodied person in the house.
I think this is the greatest of my design flaws, though a slightly larger chest and a stronger back would be nice.
If this were all, it wouldn't be so bad.
But my design flaw is coupled with several systems failures, all of which make me feel as if I'm falling apart.
My first and foremost system failure has to do with serotonin. Either my brain doesn't produce enough or my synapses don't absorb it fast enough; thus my lifelong battle with depression.
The second system failure, hypothyroidism, has caused me much fatigue and grief over the last 5 or so years.
Fortunately, my system failures and design flaws can be treated with great success these days, though my doctor has forbidden me to use a treadmill ever again.
But I've often thought about prehistoric times. Though the question is likely moot, as I wouldn't have lived to my middle forties then anyway, I can't help but consider what my life would have been like.
Would my high arches have caused problems keeping up with the rest of the hunter-gatherer band? Would I have been left behind, alone on the grassland, waiting for the saber tooth to get me? Had this happened earlier, due to the number of walking miles put on by the time of puberty, would I even have successfully passed on my genes, flaws and all?
Do you keep a melancholic around the campfire when she just brings the rest of the tribe down? Or would all the walking have kept the depression at bay?
How about the thyroid? No one would have wasted their own energy carrying an exhausted elder on a travois.
I'm pretty fortunate to live in the times I do.
Though it might have been a lot easier letting the puppy out of the cave to pee...
2 comments:
Ah, no worries, I would have been with you on the lonely steppes, because I too have ridiculously high arches. I used to wear orthotics, because I developed heel spurs as a result of the arch problem. I don't wear them much now, but lately my right foot has been aching like the dickens and I think I should see the doc. We would have been very good gatherers, and probably been the ultimate reason for the domestication of the sheep, and the tribe would have come crying back to us, and begged us to make wool for them, and feed them cheese. Not to mention, they would have demanded some of our special brew of happiness (merlot of a sort). So never fear, the saber tooth would have gone hungry.
ROFL!
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