Another Chapter of Reconstruction

I woke up in the recovery room with a definite feeling of "deja vu." I've been here before. I know that I've been here before. I was handed the control to a pain pump and instructed how to use it. I soon came to realize where I was and why I was there. I was in Texas Orthopedic Hospital in Houston. Although it was a slightly different hospital setting, the surroundings were familiar. Indeed, the familiar recall was on target. After having so many foot surgeries, I decided that this one hurt no more and definitely no less than any previous foot surgery. Aside from having a brutal headache, the pain pump was doing its job. Unfortunately, the more I pushed that button, the worse my headache became. I later came to believe that the headache was an unfortunate reaction to the pain medication.  Just my luck!


The doctor came in while I was still in a stupor and, from our short visit, I gleaned that the surgery had not been simple. He had found more problems than he expected and therefore had done much more repair work than expected. 


It wasn't until later, when I read the surgical report, that I realized the extent of the surgery. In all, there were about nine separate procedures which resulted in seven incisions. It still amazes me that there could be so many problems in such a small space. And yet, I know how acutely I felt the ever-increasing pain. There was clear evidence of why my foot hurt so badly as well as full realization that the longer I waited, the worse the foot had become. 


Without going into the whole surgical report, he did bone repair in several places. He removed bone spurs and repaired recurring bunions and straightened toes. He placed plates and pins into the foot to support the bone work he had done. But, if anything, the bone work was less important (to me anyway) than the work done within the incision at the bottom of my foot. This was the location of the "stump neuroma" which is from the neuroma that had already been repaired three times. Each time, the latest procedure was used, but the nerves "re-sprouted" and acted as live wires inside the bottom of my feet, often causing unbearable pain.

For those of you who are not familiar with the word "neuroma," it is basically a tumor that forms from nerve tissue. I'm not sure about neuroma formation in other parts of the body, but formation in the foot usually begins with something called "Morton's Neuroma." It is my understanding that the neuroma usually forms at the nerve center in the third web space. In other words, between the bones leading to the third and fourth toe. When the foot is squeezed in any way, the nerve compression painfully announces its presence. Unfortunately, that squeezing includes standing on it. As the neuroma expands and gets irritated, it is literally like standing on a toothache.


Under normal circumstances, the neuroma is removed and the nerve pain ceases. I had my first neuroma surgery more than 27 years ago. I went to the doctor after the pain and stinging became so bad, I actually thought there were red ants crawling and stinging my legs and feet. More than once, I pulled my car off to the side of the road to try to swat the red ants away.


At the time, the doctor chose to repair both feet at once. Since there was no internet at the time (yes people, there was life before internet!), I went to the library to research the options. The research revealed that this was mostly experienced by runners. But it could also be caused by wearing ill fitting shoes and high heels. Okay, none of those causes applied to me. I have no idea why my feet decided to sprout these awful tumors when I was in my 20s and 30s yet they were mine to deal with.  In any case, surgery was only called for in extreme cases and runners could be back running within six weeks. Once the surgery was inevitable, the recovery time was reasonable. I had no reason to expect that my feet would bot be "cured" within a few weeks. Wouldn't that have been great?


What followed were many years of pain. I didn't matter what kind of shoes I wore, my feet were at issue no matter where we went. A trip to the zoo or a Mardi Gras parade were impossibly painful.


So fast forward to the recovery room where I provided living proof that neuromas in the foot are not necessarily an easy cure. In the end, I felt that I had "given birth" in the bottom of my foot. Not only did he have to repair the original stump neuroma, but also he found a new one that had to be repaired.  Additionally, there were ganglion cysts and what he called "ganglion material" that was wrapping around the already strangled nerves. Did I mention the feeling of "standing on a toothache?"

Thus began the current healing process for my right foot. Once it is "well," I will have similar surgery on my left foot. Although I am not looking forward to another surgery and difficult recovery, I am eager to have both feet absent of all these painful appendages. I am ready to have normal feet. I am ready to go dancing again!

On a Mission!

After so many years of "walking on broken glass," it's difficult for me to envision life any other way.  But through the years, I've held on to this inner certainty that if we can put a man on the moon; if we can create a world in which everything is a click away; if we can take people from actual near death experiences back to life; then it should follow that a three-inch square area on someone's foot absolutely CANNOT control his or her life!


I've also held on to the reality that there is nothing fatal about having "bad feet." With so many people I know fighting cancer and other serious diseases, I can be grateful for the fact that I am basically a very healthy person, aside from chronic pain issues. Again, this can hurt me, but it will never kill me. 


Many years ago, I passed an examination room in the doctor's office where a patient sat with an entirely BLACK foot. The black area extended all the way to her knee. I was deeply moved by that sight and fiercely fought back tears. I sensed that this lady was about to hear that she would lose her leg. At that point, it seemed almost selfish of me, as the next person to see the same doctor, to whine that "my feet hurt." So many times, I've grappled with the feelings evoked by that vision. Years later, I still think of her. But in the end, I've had to remove myself from that lady's situation. Instead, I face the reality that I continue to have foot pain. Yet deep in my heart, I refuse to accept that nothing can be done to help me.


With all this in mind, I was STILL on a mission to find help for my feet! This three-inch square of my body is on it's way to the moon and I am on my way to walking on sunshine!


We made the 5-hour drive to Houston in May 2012, to see Dr. Grant Braly and have him take a fresh look at a patient he hasn't seen in 22 years. He would see a patient he's tried to repair at least four times - twice on each foot. And for a while, his repairs worked and I experienced relief. But eventually, the nerve endings regenerated and the awful nerve pain, stinging and burning would return. Was there any reason to expect that the same thing wouldn't happen again? What was I doing here? We would soon find out. Although he may have had a little trouble making a name and face connection; once he saw the plethora of scars on my feet, he knew exactly who I was. In all, there were eight old surgical scars on my right foot and at least six on my left foot. 


As usual, the visit began with x-rays which he studied closely. We talked about the progression of pain and how much it continues to interfere with my daily life. The entire time we talked, he "kneaded" my feet as though he had a handful of bread dough. From one end to the other; first the right and then the left foot. He pressed the bony protrusions and then watched me writhe in pain as he pressed on the nerve centers.


Finally, he began to explain all the things he believed were wrong with my feet at this point. More importantly, he told me that a procedure had been developed to "bury" the nerves into bone and muscle. Instead of regenerating as they had in the past, the nerves would grow into the bone and muscle. Once this happened, nerve pain, stinging and burning should cease. This was the most exciting news of the day. He explained that he had used this nerve burying procedure for several years and had had great success with it. Finally, the good news!


We discussed that since my feet are very small, there may be a problem finding enough bone and muscle mass to bury the many nerve problems he could feel. But he didn't expect that would be a problem which made me appreciate his broad knowledge, confidence and experience. He explained that an MRI would have shown all the bundles of nerve masses. But even without an MRI image of them, he could feel the neuromas that had to be addressed. Additionally, he found several bony areas that were causing friction and pain. There was a large bone spur that had developed under my fourth and fifth toe that helped to explain some of the "new" pain. He explained how each area would be repaired. He asked us to take our time and think about it. If I decided to have the surgery, we would approach one foot at a time. I had to be able to support the weight of my body with the other foot which endures its own set of problems.


Barry and I knew the routine, having been through it so many times before. At this point, planning for the surgery and extended recovery was the mission at hand. Eventually, we made the appointment for the first surgery and booked a hotel room a few blocks away.


Is pain a good reason to opt for surgery? Most of us are familiar with the common phrase "when your feet hurt, you hurt all over." For me, that takes on a very literal meaning. I've described it as "standing on a toothache." 


Many times along the way, I've had to question myself, realizing that in many aspects, this is "elective" surgery. As I mentioned, I am healthy and not in danger of losing life or limb. But I truly believe that "elective" and "optional" are not one in the same. This was not to improve my appearance or enhance certain areas of my body. This was to augment my quality of life; to enhance my pursuit of enjoyment.


Finally, on May 21, 2012, the time arrived. We checked into Texas Orthopedic Hospital early on Monday morning. I talked with Dr. Braly before surgery and asked a few questions about how he would approach the numerous problems affecting my foot. For example: if the nerves branch out like a tree, would he be trying to track down every painful branch, or would he be going after the trunk of the tree? He explained that he would cut the branches away from the trunk; and then bury the trunk into the bone and muscle. No matter what the surgery entailed, I was ready. 


Since Dr. Braly is an educator as well as a surgeon,I agreed to having students observe the surgery and have it videoed and used for classroom studies. Since my particular combination of foot problems is extremely rare, he expected that it would definitely be studied by many orthopedic foot surgeons.


In my quest to find help, I have always faced the same question. What kind of worth do we place on  'quality of life?' Is improved quality of life reason enough for surgery? In all cases, the answer was the same for me. My quality of life had been gravely compromised and I'm ready to change that. 


At the end of my life, will I wish I had chosen to dance that last dance without pain? Absolutely!

Facing the Facts

It's been 22 years since my last foot surgery and I have persistently sworn that I would never allow anyone to cut on my feet again. At some point however, I began to realize that progressively, my feet were getting worse. Not only had the pain become more intense, it was more widespread and deeper in the tissue. Although I've become accustomed to the fact that every facet of my life is affected in a profound way, I finally had to realize I had reached the time of "enough is enough."

Once I hit the wall and examined my feet closely, I knew that the time had come for me to do something. At least I had to seek consultation regarding what caused the increasingly unbearable pain. I had to question why my lifelong love of writing had come to writing a blog about how awful my feet are and lamenting all the things I know that I'm missing.

After seeing a local orthopedic foot specialist (which we didn't have here when I had prior surgeries), I walked away crying. Although he was thoroughly impressed with the prior surgical work he could see on my x-rays, he offered no help for the cause of increased pain. "I'm sorry you're having so much pain, but there's nothing I can do for you." That was the hard truth I came away with. But my husband heard more. He could not believe that a prominent doctor would level so much praise on the work of another surgeon. "I don't know who this surgeon is, but I can tell from your x-rays that the work he's done shows some some of the most intricate surgical techniques I've ever seen." 

I left his office with a feeling of hopelessness. I'd waited three months for an appointment with a doctor who basically turned me away as a patient. "Sorry, there's nothing I can do for you." My husband, on the other hand, was convinced that the doctor had given me the information I needed to move forward. If this doctor was so completely impressed with the surgical techniques he saw on the x-ray, then my husband was convinced that I had to return to Houston to see Dr. Braly. If Dr. Braly said that nothing more could be done, then we would accept it and move on with our lives. But if anything could be done, we both trusted that Dr. Braly was the man to do it.

But would Dr. Braly still be in practice? Very soon I found that indeed he was still practicing with the same group in the Texas Medical Center in Houston. The abundant awards and accolades he had amassed twenty-two years ago had multiplied exponentially. Indeed, he is also still teaching orthopedic surgeons at Baylor University. I immediately made an appointment with him. Knowing that this was not just "an appointment," I planned it at a time when I would be ready for whatever this doctor recommended.

If only I would had the ability, at this point I would have been Walking on Cloud Nine. The appointment was two months away, but I was ready. I was so ready!

You often hear that when one door closes, God opens another door for us to enter. Before I could dry my tears, the new door had opened for me and I was ready to walk through it.

 

Creature Comforts

When I signed on for Ad Sense, I knew that my blog would be "monitored" somewhat to determine good places to throw in ads that may get some response. With that in mind, I'm going to mention a few of the stores, websites and brands that have helped me survive day-to-day with these painful feet. 

ECCO: I suppose, first and foremost are my Ecco shoes. Ecco produced the first sandal that satisfied all my foot needs. Adjustable front, back and heels. They even had smooth soles I could walk on. For the first time in years, I not wearing tennis shoes all the time! I could wear my Ecco sandals with shorts, crop pants and skirts. Later, I even had the joy of a great pair of Ecco hiking boots. I literally wore the sole off of them. I've had Ecco tennis shoes and Ecco dress shoes. They were great. What can I say? My closet began to look pretty normal. Expensive? Yes. But so worth it!


ECCO athletic shoes are in a class all their own. At some point, I actually found great tennis shoes that I could wear - ECCOs. I must say that these are the shoes I wear most. Right now, I'm wearing my third or fourth pair and need new ones. But regardless of how great they are, the insole has to come out to make space for my Spencos. Read more to learn about my pain saving Spencos.

Fit-Flops: My latest love is for something called "FitFlops." Not to be confused with "flipflops." I can't wear anything between my toes. Absolutely nothing between the toes. Ever. But my FitFlops are suede clogs and, for me, they're about as  comfortable as shoes can get - for ME.


MBTs: These are uniquely designed shoes and I've had mixed results with them. The name "MBT" is for some kind of Indian Barefoot Technology. They come with a video that explains the design process and how they came to be. The soles are to designed to feel like walking on sand. The soles "roll" back and forth so that there is no weight on a particular part of your foot (for me, nerve centers) for long. I've had great luck with the sandals. The rolling action seems to take the pressure off the "nerve" spots in my feet.

Spenco Orthotics: Through the years, I've been through orthotics of every kind. Custom made, doctor built, memory foam - you name it. But I always return to my favorites, Spenco Cross Trainers. My favorite green cushy Spencos rule. I don't know what I would do with out them!  Many years ago, a young manager in a Footlocker asked me to try one shoe with the Spenco and one without. "Walk around the store. See which one feels the best."  Wow, I've thanked that girl ever since. I order my Spencos online or get them at the Academy. They're not expensive but I wear them all the time. I even use my older Spencos in my pool shoes for water aerobics. They're great. Spenco cushions make life easier! 


The Walking Store: I find it very difficult to buy shoes in stores.  The Walking Store is one of my favorite places to buy them online! In stores, if I try them on early in the morning, my feet don't hurt quite as much and there's no swelling. So I can easily be fooled into thinking I can wear shoes that I absolutely cannot wear. If I go late in the day or at night, my feet usually hurt so much, there is no shoe in the WORLD that looks good to me. At that time, the thought of buying shoes is unbearable. And watching girls try on 8-inch heels makes me want to puke! But sometimes I find a style and color I like, then I go home (in the comfort of my recliner) and look for them online. Once I "Google" the kind of shoes I'm looking for, I will likely find websites for the shoes I want. As I mentioned, The Walking Store is one of my favorites - online or in-store.

Foot Smart: I like Foot Smart because I get great catalogs. They deal with all the reasons people have foot problems and offer shoes or comfort items to help each problem. They have brands of shoes I like, as well as creature comforts for the foot problems I have. Foot Smart was developed for people like me. They cater to foot problems and carry shoes and other footwear that are helpful for people with foot problems. 

Returns and Exchanges: I mentioned that much of my footwear is purchased online. These companies are very good about returns and exchanges. I can usually find some pretty good bargains and REALLY shop without walking the malls. I can see all the styles and colors they have available, along with the price of each. Even the Spenco orthotics are easy to find and come with a nice guarantee.  I usually buy a couple of them at once because I wear them in most of my shoes. I even save my older ones to wear in my pool shoes. What? No water aerobics without good support on my feet!

Dr. Scholls: Lastly, you have to know that Dr. Scholls is, of course, a close friend. I get toe separators, callous cushions; you name it. When I know I'll be walking or on my feet a great deal, I pad them in all the spots that need protection. And it helps.


Just a Reminder: That even with all these great amenities, it still "feels like I'm walking on broken glass!"

Putting Things Into Perspective

Please note: Although this story is based on an actual event and from my perspective the feelings are genuine in every respect, it was also written with respect for the patient's HIPPA rights; his privacy as a patient. I have changed names and details out of respect for the young man in the story. However, my respect and admiration for him remains the same.
  
Before I gave up my Pastoral Care Commission at a local hospital, I had a memorable experience with a young patient. The events that transpired on that day are etched into my memory and have have helped to put my life, my pain and the purpose of hospital ministry into perspective.


On that particular day, my assignment was long and tedious. Several patients either needed a sounding board or somehow established a connection with me or my family and extended conversations ensued. By the time I got to the end of my list, I'd had it. My feet had gone the distance. I felt as though I was in the final stretch of a full marathon. But I had one more name on my list. Someone named Blake with a room on the neurosurgery floor. But due to the intense pain I'd been literally walking on, I was finished! I started toward the elevators. Blake would have to wait until another day to receive communion. My feet couldn't take another visit. 


On my way to the elevator, I looked down at the name again and said a prayer for the patient named Blake. I asked that he or she could forgive me for stopping before my assignment was complete. But when I looked at the name, I saw a person's face. I suddenly thought to myself, why should Blake have to miss receiving the Body and Blood of Christ today, just because MY feet hurt? Suddenly, stopping before visiting my last patient didn't make sense to me. Somehow, I had to make it to Blake's room.


I made my way into an empty alcove and leaned my whole body against the wall. I took off my shoes one at a time and stretched my feet. I alternated lifting and rotating my feet, trying to relieve the intense pain I was feeling. I went into the restroom and sat on the toilet for a few minutes just to take the weight off my feet. I scrubbed my hands and looked in the mirror. I could see pain etched deeply into my face. I splashed water and prayed again. God, I need your help to make it to see Blake. As I walked toward Blake's room, I had to laugh because, of course, his room was the very last one at the end of a long hall. Okay God, now you're really testing my faith. But I know you can get me through this.


When I walked into Blake's room, I was astounded at the vision that greeted me. The room was large and the young man in the hospital bed had his head completely wrapped in bandages. Even with the bandages, I could see that he was a handsome young man. And he was smiling from ear to ear as he thanked me for being there. He thanked me for bringing the Eucharist to him and said it was an important part of his day.


At his bedside, three state troopers stood in full uniform. They were standing side by side in what seemed at the time like a military honor guard, yet they stood there reverently - as if guarding a fellow trooper. Their flat-rimmed trooper hats were identically held with crossed hands behind their backs as they stood in what seemed to be an "at ease" position. 


I was introduced to the police officers in the room who cheerfully declared that they were all on a mission to make sure young Blake would someday be able to return to full duty with them. It was indeed a touching sight. Their eyes were smiling but I definitely detected an emotional presence in each of them.

The young man's dad sat at the edge of his bed with more pain on his face than I could have ever known. On the wall to my right was a large portrait of the young man as he looked in his state police uniform. What a handsome and proud young man in that portrait! I later learned that it was Blake's graduation picture from the State Police Academy, which was just weeks before his accident. I was told that Blake was in his early twenties and had been in a vehicle accident in bad weather on an interstate highway.


My "reasons" for making the walk down that long hall continued to multiply. The young man and his family were from the same small town as my parent's families. So there was an immediate connection. In fact, we discovered that Blake's grandmother and my own godmother had been very close friends for many years. Blake's dad kept thanking me for my visit and the prayers I offered on Blake's and his family's behalf. We spoke in the very limited amount of Cajun French I could muster and the dad began to relax a little. He wanted to talk about Blake; about what a wonderful and compliant son he was and that his life's dream was to be a state trooper. The son was on his way to pick up his parents for an anniversary dinner when the accident occurred.


As they told me Blake's story, I fiercely fought tears. I could also see by looking at the head bandages that a portion of Blake's skull appeared badly damaged. A tree trunk had pushed through his cranium and had crushed bones in his head. I wondered about the extent of his body-wide injuries. I wondered if Blake would ever be able to fulfill his life's dream of being a state policeman. The more I wondered, the harder I prayed and the more I fought tears. There were many months, perhaps years of recovery in Blake's future and in his family's future as well. 


In return for my prayers, I was somehow given the assurance that Blake's faith and the strong family faith that hovered in the room would sustain them through these difficult years. This faith was responsible for the fact that Blake was alive and alert and receptive to prayers and the Holy Eucharist.


There was almost a spring in my step and I retraced the hall, returned to the chapel and made my way through the parking lot. Of COURSE my feet still hurt, but I knew without a doubt that my pain was not even measurable on the same scale with Blake's.  


God bless Blake and his family!

Ministering in Pastoral Care

Since my foot problems have intensified, one of the volunteer duties I've had to give up is the hospital ministry I did for several years. For this ministry, I was on rotation to take the Holy Eucharist to hospital patients. I would pick up my assignment sheet at the Pastoral Care office, proceed to the chapel to pray for my patients and then get the blessed Eucharist. I set out on my rounds, visiting the rooms on my assignment. It was a deeply rewarding ministry. Every time I was there, I experienced a particular patient, family member or incident that made me realize that there was a definite purpose for my being there on that particular day. 


After introducing myself, I offered Catholic patients an opportunity to receive holy communion. Many had asked to be put on the communion list so, more often than not, patients accepted and appreciated the opportunity. Regardless of whether or not they received communion, I prayed with the family and offered prayers of healing for the patient. I ended with the prayers for distribution of the Eucharist. I was always touched by how grateful the people were; not only the patients but their family members, friends, and even their sitters. 


Many times, when I determined that the elderly spouse or the parent of a small child rarely got to leave their patient's room, I would offer to confer the Eucharist to the family member as well. Patients often wanted nothing more than to have someone to talk with. This was especially true if they had come to our hospital from another city or country and felt as if their pastoral support and family had been left behind.


Of course, the foot problems were always amplified on the days I had Pastoral Care duties. Although I wore my most comfortable shoes, I tried to maintain the dress code that had been established for us. (So I definitely wasn't in sweat pants and old sneakers!) The ministry called for several consecutive hours of walking the long hospital halls and standing on my feet for extended periods of time; a combination that was certain to bring unbearable pain. Regardless of the day, the time or the footwear, it was always a very painful job for me. But the rewards certainly outweighed the pain.


I always believed that this was such a small sacrifice for me, despite the pain. I have foot pain; bad foot pain. So what? It's not a condition I will die from; nor is it one that involves major working organs that keep my body functioning. I prayed as I went though my assignment. God, please give me the fortitude, courage and pain resistance I need to get me through this day. I was so humbled by the experience and so fortunate to be able to perform this important spiritual mission that my pain was often pushed to the back of my mind.


During every visit, I somehow received a spiritual message regarding the "reason" I was there and how important this ministry is. Occasionally, I had the extreme privilege of giving communion to ordained religious individuals. In many cases, these members of the clergy were battling life-threatening diseases. Sometimes they had reached "end of life" situations. It was always very humbling to confer communion to these priests, religious brothers or nuns, especially knowing that in some cases, it could possibly be one of the last times they would receive the sacraments after giving their lives to Jesus Christ.


But eventually, I had to give up hospital ministry because of my feet. And I truly miss it.  Of all the things I've had to give up, I would say this was the hardest. I enjoyed the ministry and the time I spent with patients. I am thoroughly convinced that it is a vital mission and one I hope to resume at some point. I believe that there was a "calling" attached to this privilege and if I can ever get my foot pain back to a tolerable level, I will definitely try to answer that calling again.


My next blog will impart a particular patient experience (one of many) and how strongly I was affected by my Pastoral Care Ministry experiences. Until I return, I continue to pray for the Pastoral Care ministers in all hospitals, and especially Our Lady of the Lake where I ministered. 

Refusing to Give In

It has taken me a long time to reach this point, but I've decided to return to Houston to see the orthopedic surgeon who performed my last and most successful foot surgeries. Although I'm not expecting that he can perform miracles, I hope he can find some way to help my most recent, recurring and very painful foot problems.


We will soon make the 300+ mile trip to the Texas Medical Center and my feet will become reacquainted with Dr. Braly, a man I had come to know well over the years that he performed surgeries on both feet and ankles from about 1989 to 1994. It's been almost 18 years since I saw him for the follow-up after my most recent foot surgery in June 1994. It will be interesting to see what he thinks about the current "state of affairs" with my aching feet.


When I saw the new doctor here in Baton Rouge a few months ago, I walked away with the opinion that he sees no easy solution to my current problems. He believes that, short of doing major surgery to fuse bones, there is nothing he can do to help the latest pains. Fusing the bones could possibly cause me to lose motion in that area and, in the end, may not help the pain. Not great odds; even for pains that keep my feet adorned with at least a dozen kinds of bandages. I won't even consider major surgery or fusing bones.

But the most obvious opinion I heard from him was how prolific he believed my foot surgeon had been. He pointed out on my x-rays how well the bones had healed and how well the precise "surgical sites" looked. He seemed amazed at the appearance of the x-rays in the places where the surgeon had performed his craft. It was encouraging to hear this surgeon praise the work of my previous surgeon so extensively. He explained how sorry he was that the nerve damage remained from the neuroma excisions, but made it clear that the structural formation looked great. The pain, it seems, is due to the manner in which my weight distributes when I walk. I naturally step away from the painful areas. As I said before, "the surgery was a success but the patient died."


Obviously, after I saw the new doctor, the problems continued and the array of bandages became more varied. I still get painful callouses and then blisters form around the callouses. The spot where the right bunion once was, has become a painful point of contention. When pain hits the spot where the pin was placed, it is excruciating! And it only takes something as simple as a pair of flats or a closed toe shoe that hits the bunion spot in just the wrong way. The pain is immediate and unbearable.


My research 20 years ago led me to Dr. Braly and, at the time, I determined that he was the best. I accepted that my pain continued simply because it was meant to be. I never believed it was his fault or the fault of anything he had done or not done. At the time, he told me that the particular combination of problems I had was perhaps one of a kind in the world. In fact, his research has shown that I was one of only four with one set of problems, one of two with another. That's me . . . one of a kind. 


Since I definitely don't want big surgery, what am I hoping for? Well, I'll have to have the expert look at it but I believe if he can snip a tendon or connecting tissue that's making the big tow lean and ultimately making the painful bunion spot stick up, maybe that would help. Strap me into a boot and let it heal. Now, that's my simple solution, but let's see what my doctor has to say. If HE has no solution, then I will continue with the bandages and toe separators.


This is definitely NOT the way I want to be listed in the World Book of Records. But it is what it is. I pray that Dr. Braly will take a look and know exactly what to do to make it better. I hope he can take some of the broken glass away! 


After all these years, I still refuse to believe that with all the technology that has come along in the world, someone like me can be forced to accept the fact that a four-square-inch segment of my body can control my life and cause so much pain. I once told my doctor "they only hurt when I stand on them or walk on them." But isn't that what feet are for?