...and yes, those are my toes. Back in April, Dan and I went on a trip for Israel. In the weeks leading up to the trip I put myself into "training" for the hikes. A week ahead of the trip my foot started to hurt...the last two days of our adventure were downright miserable...and the month following our return was unbearable.
I finally went to see my doctor and he sent me to a specialist. The diagnosis: a broken fourth metatarsal. I've never had a broken bone before and I'm pretty confident I don't want another. This was a little bone...I can't imagine what my dad endures on a daily basis! And, just to add a little salt to the wound, my doctor has outlawed flip-flops. Permanently. In the process of treating the broken bone they've determined I have quite high arches and walk on the outside of my feet. I've known that for years, but I didn't know it could lead to broken bones!
I've been fitted for orthotics and have to buy "sturdy shoes," whatever those are. I routinely live in flip-flops from May 'til the snow flies and this is rather bitter medicine to swallow. I know in the grand scheme of things I should consider this minor, however, the orthotic lady did say "this is a lifestyle change" and was sympathetic, so I don't think I'm totally off-base in bemoaning the end of my flip-flop era.
My dad is giddy --- he hates my flip-flops. *grin*
p.s. Ms. Postwoman....I'm waiting patiently by my mailbox.
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