We got back from the symphony last night around 10pm. (I'll write about that tomorrow.) I carried sleeping, already pajamaed Pipsqueak to bed, went in my room, kicked off my sensible shoes, took two steps and was halted by intense and sudden pain in my left heal. I couldn't put any weight on it. I hobbled around getting ready for bed while reassuring myself that it would feel fine in the morning.
I woke up about 4am by my heel throbbing like a neon sign outside a cheap hotel. I thought about getting up to take a pain reliever, but I didn't want to get out of bed. (I will lay in bed having to pee for four hours because I don't want to get out of bed. I wonder if the smoke alarm went off if I would get up or wait until I saw flames.) At six thirty, I got up and limped to the bathroom unsure if I wanted to cry or throw up from the pain.
I should explain that I have a high threshold for pain. A yellow jacket flew down my shirt once and stung me four times in the arm, while I thought it was one of those little plastic tag connector things pricking me. I had a c-section, refused Oxycontin and took only ibuprofen during my recovery. So when I say something hurts, IT HURTS!!
I decided that if my doctor couldn't see me today, I would go to the emergency room. (More proof of the level of pain; I have NEVER been to an emergency room.) Luckily, I got in to see my doctor this morning. (A $20 co-pay is much easier to take than an emergency room charge.). After examining me and asking me a couple of questions, he diagnosed Plantar Fasciitis. I have to:
- rest (hmmm, knit, write blog, watch tv),
- ice (my feet are cold all the time already),
- get padded inner soles (the choices were overwhelming)
- and take mega doses of ibuprofen (hmmm, can I drink wine when I take that?).
If I'm a good girl and do as the doctor order, I should have significant improvement in a week or less.
Frozen peas make a great ice pack.
After reviewing the twenty-five choices of padded inner soles, I chose these Dr. Scholl's.