For the past week or so I’ve had bad feet. My right ankle
may be sprained. My left foot has what I suspect is a neuroma, a tumor on a nerve between
the metatarsals. I sometimes limp on my left foot, and sometimes on my right.
When both are in pain, I limp on both, which doesn’t look to be limping at all,
just a slow waddle, an old man with two bad feet. Coming down the stairs in the
morning, I’m Walter
Brennan in The Real McCoys (and
if you don’t get that allusion to age infirmity then you’re just not old enough,
and should be glad).
This is one of the things that’s fucked about getting old.
There are so many different aches and pains that you don’t know what to think
about any of them. Do you have an injury? A disease? Should you see a doctor?
Or are you just a decrepit old fart who should shut up and shuffle along, or just
lie down, quit whining, and die already? For now, I choose to whine, complain
about the pain, and rage against the age. What do we have if we don’t have
that?
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