My Left Foot . . .

Last week one of my Facebook friends brazenly posted that she had gotten on her elliptical after a hiatus and glowed with exhilaration after her workout.  She ended the status update with, “Hello, old friend.”  I felt happy for her.  That is, until I started to suffer from the backlash her simple comment started.

Apparently, her elliptical called my elliptical to gloat.  My elliptical has stood, userless for going on ten weeks. . .maybe twelve.  I mean, I enjoy the elliptical as an option.  It allows me to run without any direct impact on my knees and avoid the inevitable shift from health-minded jogger to breathless loper which is a visual no one needs to see.  But, when it comes to summer, give me a good outdoor walk any day over a workout in the mancave.  Thus, the elliptical hasn’t seen much action and now, jealousy was rearing it’s ugly head.  It started off using a soft tact, “Have you see your Facebook friend?  She looks SO healthy!” it said.  I smiled, after all, I am recovering from ankle surgery and a broken bone.  I’m not ALLOWED to have a relationship with exercise. That machine knows how to push my buttons though.  Gradually, I shed the cast, the crutches, and finally the boot and the elliptical stepped up it’s taunt.  “Are your jeans a little tight there?” it asked.  Yes, I thought.  “How is the walking coming?”  it asked.  It’s getting too cold to walk, I think, and well, my Achilles needs to be stretched.  “I can do that for you,” it purred, “Just take it slow.”  I started thinking about the benefits and out of the blue, my left foot gets totally ticked off and jumps in-

“Where the hell have YOU been?” it asked right foot.

“Um. . .I’ve been a little wrapped up.”

“Well while you’ve been “wrapped up,’ I’ve been doing double duty and I’m a little sick of it.  Do you know how much weight I’ve had to bear?  Seriously, just look up!”

“Yeah, but you’ve been able to wear a cute shoe while I have been bound in the ugly black boot.”

“I haven’t even had a pedicure because of you,” my left foot hissed, “and I broke my pinky toe doing all the work and couldn’t even whine because YOU weren’t around the pick up the slack.”

“So, what are you saying?” Right foot inquired.

“I’m saying, get your heel on that elliptical machine and start moving because if I have to haul her butt around one more time, I will make sure you NEVER WALK AGAIN!”

So, I got on the elliptical and started to move for the first time in several weeks.  It felt great . . .for about fifteen minutes then, my left foot took off out the door.

“Hey!,” right foot yelled, “where are you going?”

“I’m going for a massage.  You just keep going, I’ll be back in about 6 weeks!”  

My elliptical retreated to the corner to pout.  I’m sure, though, it won’t be long before it starts mocking me. And I thought the surgery was painful.

Travels With Lucy and Ethel

During the "growing" years of our progeny and the humorously perceived youth of our spouses, my BFF Cindy and I created, participated in and cajoled our spouses into a number of "crazy" ideas.  When the phone would ring and BFF Cindy would ask for Dave, he knew he was done for and had already been signed up to do something (dress like a cowboy and square dance at a Hoedown, ride across the western region of the United States on a bike, or wear a powder blue ruffled tuxedo 2 sizes too small complete with a kleenex corsage, to name a few) he wanted no part of.  He called us Lucy and Ethel and if that follows, then when he knew he was going to feel like an idiot, he was Fred.

So, when I had my first orthopedic surgery, I was granted my first pair of crutches.  I named them, appropriately, Lucy and Ethel.  Lucy is the left crutch and usually leads with Ethel following dutifully behind.  I've had Lucy and Ethel through knee surgery, achilles surgery and now an ankleysomething or other.  So, when the rehab people came to give their spiel about mobile apparatus, I waved them away out of respect for Lucy and Ethel.  This ain't my first rodeo folks.

Yeah.  About that.  I made it out for about 2 hours Saturday night, was up and about Sunday for a time and was ready to take a double dose of pain pills by Sunday night NOT because my foot hurt, no!  It was because my shoulders, neck and forearms hurt so bad, the thought of standing up with crutches was reducing me to tears.  What a baby.

Not one to give in however, I went for a ride in the car to pick up a pizza on Monday.  Feeling spunky, I hopped up the two steps from the garage to the kitchen, tucked Lucy and Ethel firmly under my arms and fell, face first onto the kitchen floor. Lucy flew forward while Ethel had gotten caught on the door jam.  Apparently I swore rather loudly as I hit the ground but I was laughing and crying so hard by the time my husband (scared to death, I might add) got to me that he wasn't exactly sure what had even happened and he didn't think it was funny at all.


This morning, the Home Health Care people delivered a "knee cruiser" - sort of like a 4 wheeled trike where I can rest my casted leg on the padded part and use my good leg to make it go.  I can't lie, I feel like an idiot.  I think I'll name this one Fred.