sevenhelz: photo of me snuggling a cat. my face is not shown (Default)
2013-08-16 08:06 pm

on walking slowly

I have a hole in my foot. I had a verruca removed, and in its place there is a thumbnail-size open wound. It's not hugely deep, but on the sole of my foot, nearly under my heel, it doesn't have to be. It's sore as fuck. What I can do, is I can load up on painkillers, and pad out around the wound, and dress and tape it nicely, and then I can walk almost normally for a while, ignoring it oozing gently into the dressing until the next time I shower, savlon and repeat.

The thing is, I'm pretty sure that walking on it doesn't help it heal any, so I'm trying not to do that. Given that my job is basically walking, you might think I'm not onto a winner there, and you'd probably be right. HOWEVER. All that I'm trying to do is limit my walking to the absolutely necessary. Most things in my room are now within reach of the bed. My day off has consisted of lying around moping, moaning on twitter, and eating whatever's within reach. The highlight was when a friend from the band, who'd agreed to collect a takeaway if I needed it, turned up at my door bearing cake. Cake! Apart from its inherent cakey goodness, this is also an ongoing joke between us two, part of a pact if you like. So. Yes.

Getting up to the door made me realise that the painkillers I'd eventually, unwillingly taken had actually worked. And I'm not just talking about the nap they made me have, either. I felt like I could tape up lightly and walk on the ball of my foot, so I did. I went to Boots and to Marks and Spencer - not my first choice, because they use Workfare, but one of the nearest shops and only across the way from the Boots I needed to visit.

The difference in those two shopping experiences reminded me again how lucky I am to be usually able-bodied. Boots were great - I hobbled in on the phone to my bestie, found the earplugs I need, spent a few minutes muttering to myself as I selected dressings and tape, and realised that a woman from the shop had been keeping an eye on me in my obvious pain and distress; she checked if I was okay as I staggered to the self-service tills, and I was fine.

M&S was another story. I was hurting by this point, moving more slowly, and the shop was a little busier, with all the inevitable people who don't notice your impairments that that entails. Not that I blame the shop for that. But then I got to the tills, using the self-service again, and the machine froze for one of those random shitty reasons they always, fucking always have. I looked around. I looked around some more. I flagged down a staff member wandering around the shop floor, who took a minute to get to me and couldn't actually do anything about the machine. He got somebody else's attention, by which point I had sat heavily on the machine next to me. It can only have been two, three minutes I was waiting for the machine to be fixed. Two or three painful minutes, feeling a bit hopeless and a bit sick, and a bit angry enough to punch the screen and walk out, if I hadn't needed the food so much.

My pain is relatively minor. I have ways round it, products that can make it not matter. I am functional enough, and I am still a shit patient, with bad grace for every minute of minor suffering. I cannot imagine how much I would hate the world if I were always this slow-moving, this much in pain, this brain-foggy, or worse.

Another point is that I'd obviously paid through the nose for my products. It was that or try to get as far as Sainsburys - easily two or three times the distance, and possibly lacking the specific products I wanted anyway. Not worth trying to save money for me. I am damned lucky I can afford to be stupid sometimes.