Happy Thursday! How’s your day going so far?

I’m doing all right—I walked with Chris to where he works today, since it was a few blocks from where I had an early appointment with a sports medicine doctor. It was gorgeous out, and it was fun to take a walk with my buddy, who often leaves before I’m fully awake in the morning. I’ve had a nagging foot/ankle issue on and off for at least a year. It comes and goes, but after getting woken up in the middle of the night by the pain a few weeks ago, I decided to check in about it.

I was kind of prepared to have her take a look and say, “You’re fine. Thanks for wasting my time, that’ll be $300,” so you can imagine my shock when she said, “Wow. You have the most…interesting…feet.” Now, I’ve been told this before, in a variety of contexts (DW, you get a pass because you were drunk, though it was still rude), but when a doctor says it and starts using words like “deformity” and trying to push a wayward bone “back” into place, it suddenly takes on a whole new tone.

I left with a referral for a foot and ankle specialist who will look at my x-rays and tell me whether it’s something that needs to be corrected with surgery and what my options are. I was all freaked out at first, but when I spoke with my mom, she told me my great-grandmother had something very similar and that the surgery was no big deal and that she walked perfectly fine the rest of her life.

Needless to say, I’m very distracted today and not having the easiest time getting work done. While I know people often think of “comfort food” as unhealthy, high-calorie stuff, it doesn’t have to be.

I find that when I’m upset, I like to spend a little extra time making myself something nice with the best ingredients I can find. This afternoon, that translated into another massaged kale salad with coucsous and chickpeas. I also added some of the avocado that’s been on the counter ripening. It was perfect. I took my time washing, slicing and tossing and felt ten times better.

I don’t know what it means that I find handling knives and slicing into the flesh of tender fruits so soothing, but hey, whatever works…

Retail therapy also helps. Since my doctor gave my Birkenstocks a thumbs-up, I ordered myself another pair in silver. They’re already on their way. I love Zappos. 

If fixing the issue now will prevent me from being one of those old ladies hobbling around in “practical shoes,” then it’s probably better to address it when I’m still young and can bounce back easily. But still, surgery is a big word—at least to me!
I won’t know anything else for another two weeks, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for as low-stress an experience as possible.

Have you ever had surgery? Do you have any weird genetic traits? 

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