A Case of Numb Foot
This is no way to celebrate Pride month.
I’m sitting on my couch, sweating. It’s ninety here, and I don’t have A/C— just ice water, a wet washcloth over my face, and period cramps. (I am stubborn in believing that my apartment’s A/C charge of $100/month isn’t worth it. Today I’m closer than I’ve ever been to changing my mind.)
When I went outside this morning, I was pulled across the street to an event where the local queer community was gathered to smash a broken printer (—fundraising for a new fluorescent pink ink drum). It was $5 to hit the printer with a sledgehammer and $1 to hit it with a baseball bat. For $2, I dropped a big rock on this printer, twice. I was delighted.
At the gym, (where I went to hang out in the A/C), I listened to Bust A Move over and over again. On the way home, I pumped gas in my darn toughs, and someone yelled out their window— “Too Hot for Shoes, Huh?” I write down these details because small moments make up your life.
Okay ya’ll—here’s what’s what. The past few weeks I’ve been unsteady, teetering— toeing the line between a full Breakdown and being fully Fine. I decide each day which one I think I’m going to do. It’s harder than it sounds.
The theme of this newsletter is My Feet.
Somewhere in between switching cleats and aggressively treating a planters wart, I fucked up my right foot. It started with moderate arch pain and turned into pretty nasty arch pain. When I realized it was more than a matter of breaking in new cleats, I sidelined myself from frisbee. Still, my foot felt weird, and was going numb throughout the day. My heel started hurting, and the numbness started radiating up my leg. Curses!!!!
I went to the doctor this week. My prognosis is not bad. My x-ray is normal. Our working hypothesis is that a soft tissue injury in my foot (a small strain, or sprain) is causing inflammation that’s pressing on a nerve. This is nothing that a few weeks of rest and rehab can’t solve. So why am I crying every day?
Well. The cost of healthcare is scary and frequently debilitating. I can’t afford to take off work, and the nature of my work doesn’t allow me to rest my foot. I haven’t found a PT office that takes my new insurance (yet.) And, (critically,) not playing frisbee cuts me off from a central part of my identity and community. Even two weeks on the sideline, I feel lost, and drab. Where is my spark? It’s not gone, but it’s harder to find.
My sister was in town for the past week, sleeping on an air mattress on the floor of my studio. We went to the dunes, and to Olive Garden, and splurged on takeout and La Columbe canned lattes. She left on the bus last night. I cried. I wanted to leave on the bus, too.
Lavender told me, “You’ll know when you’re ready.” She said, you’ve got this.
So here I am. Caught in between a spiral and a reframe. Caught in between (another) recovery arc, and calling my mom to come pick me up, and put me on bedrest. I’ve been trying so hard for so long. Would it be the worst thing in the world to give up? Can I even do four jobs with a Numb Foot?
The good news is that my friend Shane gave me inserts for my cleats this morning. I tried sprinting in them, and it felt ALMOST normal. (I can still sprint. This is not disastrous, yet.)
Emily has been telling me to try inserts for the past several months, but I was brainwashed by the Barefoot Lobby, who had convinced me that arch support is BAD for foot health. Since deleting Instagram from my phone, I have regained a bit of my common sense, which tells me that the barefoot philosophy doesn’t apply to cleats.
I hope everyone stays safe in this heat. I hope everyone tries the Aerocano from Factory Coffee. I hope everyone meets their beach quota this week. And for God’s sake, give your feet some love on my behalf.
Happy Solstice—
x Katie
