A Pirate's Life For Me

I injured my left foot and have been keeping a pace even slower than the slow pace I normally keep.  Most days I just sit around the apartment watching the sun move across the sky and the clouds change formation.  It is differently satisfying than running around New Zealand, exploring the lunacy of a foreign city and the charms of the serene countryside.  Learning to sit still has been a lesson in patience; enjoying sitting still is for the birds. Really.

Unbeknownst to me, I traded my future mobility for the beauty of the Milford Track.  During the hike, I had terrible pains in my feet that I thought would disappear when I stopped the 33.5 mile hike, took off my pack, and forever removed the stiff rental boots from my delicate dogs.  Shortly after coming home, I realized I was still in pain but continued running, walking, and jumping around. Because that's what I do! And then I could no longer.  So, I complained about my foot, drowned my woes in old episodes of The Office, and rode the exercise bike.

Finally recognizing that I was not powerful enough to will away the pain, I went to the doctor last week.  I googled "Auckland podiatry," clicked the top listing, made a phone call, and had an appointment the next day.  For the first time in my life, I am certain I was older than the medical professional who was treating me. Wow. Just. Wow, I am old.  After the standard poking around and jogging in place, she thought I might have a tear in my posterior tibial tendon but sent me for an x-ray and ultrasound to eliminate other possible diagnoses.  Like, maybe a stress fracture.  Or, maybe I have an extra bone in my foot [my self-diagnosis].

Two days later, I hobbled over to Horizon Radiology and had what I thought would be pointless exams.  I seriously underestimated how very special I am though. There were some gasps from the technicians regarding an impressively sized boney-like mass in my foot that shouldn't be there.  Since they aren't allowed to tell you what is wrong, they can only show you and wait for the official report from a doctor.  So I waited. And waited. Days ...  there is little sense of urgency in this country ...

My records were lost, then found, and now in my possession is the formal diagnosis: "A 10 x 8mm accessory ossicle ..."  TOLD YOU SO! By "accessory" they mean extra and by "ossicle" they mean bone in my foot.  This 27th bone nestled in the posterior tibial tendon and waited for the perfect combination of overuse and irritation before making an appearance.  Now go back to your hiding place and keep quiet, stupid bone.

Cool. I'm a mutant!

>Succulent: Terrarium/Hobby