Four of them queued up on Saturday.
Few things as beautiful as a well groomed ox.
One sight that wasn't so pretty to behold last week:
A hawk flew through my window, dropped feathers in my dining room and busted out a screen to escape.
A few years back, it would only take me a couple days to catch up after a holiday. Now, it takes weeks. I hate getting old. A wise friend told me that I needed to learn the art of acceptance in order to make my life easier. Never. I would rather wear out than rust out, until death ends my struggle. I don't know why I go to extremes, why it makes me happy to push myself to the breaking point.
On the 3rd day of my holiday, I bashed my big toe running in Ohio. I lose little toe nails regularly, but the big toe is apparently a different animal. It blackened, but wouldn't fall off. Then came the canoe trip were my feet remained cold and wet for four days and I burned my only running shoes at the campfire, shrinking the toe box. I kept running because the throbbing pain was NOT going to mar my vacation nor get in the way of catching up on work when I got home. The perfect storm in the makings... By Wednesday of last week, I cried Uncle. My regular doctor asked me if I had tried to get trench foot on purpose and referred me to a podiatrist.
Less than a day later, $390, three hours in the clinic, my toenail had been surgically removed along with all the infected tissue debrided.
Whenever I'm in Canada, I get quizzed on the American health care system and gun control. The American system is flawed, but so is the Canadian's. What works in one country wouldn't necessarily work in its neighbor's. It became very clear to me when I immigrated here that Canada and the States are very different culturally.
I staunchly believe that I am not the government's dependent. I am responsible for my own health care and its costs. I agree that all citizens need insurance because what moron doesn't realize we all get sick and die. And yes it sucks that it's so expensive and that people lose their homes paying for it. I'll not be apologetic for my opinion because I lost my farm, but I'm still alive and kicking. What is the price for life?
Back to the podiatrist visit.
I have pictures of the before and after, but I don't want to ruin anyone's lunch. When I look down at my bare toe now, I see a little old bald man staring back up at me.
I tried to follow doctor's orders, but the antibiotics tore me up. I regretted refusing the two prescriptions for pain killers after my foot thawed out. And I tried to wear the Frankenstein shoe.
A better idea:
The melted shoes have one last purpose.
I even tried to abide by his orders not to run for two weeks. Cole and I tippy toed around the pasture for 3 miles yesterday and it felt good! I am that worst patient.
The new shoes my mother gave me for my birthday are calling me.
Mark my word, I will be wearing them by this weekend!