Lessons from My Left Foot

Bunions and hammer toes: if you do not know what they are, count your blessings. Most people with these painful conditions blame their shoes. Women blame wearing high heels or other ill-fitting shoes, but these conditions are often hereditary. My sister and I have some combination of hammer toes and bunions, as did our mother.

I accepted my bunion, a bone that sticks out below the first toe, which sends the big toe toward the second toe. The second toe, angry at being crowded by the big toe, rebels and rises up over the big toe, causing a bony knuckle to form. The top of the shoe rubs this bony knuckle causing pain. My solution: I wore flip-flops, especially Fit Flops in summer, and big roomy boots like Uggs in winter. When I absolutely had to wear something dressy, I was in agony until I took the dressy shoes off.

Before we left for Spain, I went on a long walk with a friend around Green Spring Park, not a particularly challenging walk. After this walk, my left foot was in so much pain I could barely hobble into the house. My solution was to buy more devices to cover the painful protruding hammertoe and various bandages for the bunion. I made a big mistake in Madrid of wearing short boots. My damaged foot in soft leather boots was no match for Madrid’s hills. I threw those boots away in our hotel room trash can and stuck with sneakers for the rest of the journey. Dan and I also visited many farmacias buying lots of European foot devices. I managed to keep walking but just barely. I vowed when I returned home, I had to do something about my left foot.

I visited a recommended podiatrist, who told me that some of the pain came from a torn tendon in the sole of my foot that had sent my hammertoe further over the big toe. The doctor said I could learn to live with it or he could operate and fix the problem permanently.

“Fix me,” I told him.

I wanted to stay mobile. He showed me my x-ray and told me about removing the bunion, straightening the big toe and its neighbor the hammertoe, shaving the hammertoe’s knuckle, and repairing the tendon. Since I knew little about foot surgery, I listened without hearing his underlying message: this surgery was complicated AND would be followed by a long long recovery.

My surgery was done at our local hospital. After the anesthesiologist told me that the podiatrist had booked the operating room for three and a half hours for my surgery, a light came on in my brain. My left foot was taking me on a scary journey. It got scarier when Dan brought me home. Since I could not climb the stairs, I settled in our downstairs master bedroom.

My foot was wrapped in a bandage covered by a goofy Velcro shoe. The first few days my foot bled off and on, soaking the bandage. The bunion had been operated on with a laser. There were four screws below the big toe, but the bunion and big toe looked great compared to the hammer toe that had a long pin stuck down the middle of it. This pin hurt off and on, ever reminding me that I had a foreign object in my body.

I thought I would be up and about in a few days. Wrong! I was in the basement for two weeks. I got around on a knee stroller, which sounds more fun than it is. I was so out of it the first few days that Dan started keeping track of my meds, which were many. Dan had taken care of his dying wife who had Parkinson’s and MS, so he knew the caregiver ropes. I so regret bringing memories of this terrible time back for him and told him so, but he would hear none of it and remained a loving partner, even as he brought food up and down the steps, three times a day.

During this time, I went to a dark place mentally. My darling dad, a diabetic, had to have part of his leg removed because a sore on his foot would not heal. My mind went to memories of him and all the pain he endured with the loss of his leg and that he was consigned to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I looked at my foot in its bloody bandage and wondered: will this be my fate?

After two weeks, I managed to get up the stairs by putting the weight of my left foot on my heel. Upstairs my mood lifted, for spring had come to our backyard. The colors were glorious. How happy I was to be back in my own bed and for Dan not to have travel the steps all the time. But because I still could not walk, he did all the work around here.

The podiatrist had said that recovery took six weeks. After that awful pin came out, I expected to be walking again. I wanted things to be back to normal. Patience is a virtue I do not possess. The doctor said I could walk on the foot, but must take exercise incrementally. Unfortunately, I have two speeds: go fast and stop. I did not do incremental until my left foot taught me this lesson. I am now walking close to 10000 steps a day, which is nothing compared to the old days, but it is a start. Dan and I are heading to Belgium in the fall, so I am trying to get up to speed.

My left foot, especially the repaired second toe, swells a lot. I have bought zillions of shoes to accommodate them. At first my swollen left foot was wearing a size 11, while my right was in the same shoe in a 9. This really felt weird. Now both feet are wearing the same shoes, but the feet and legs do not feel the same.

During all this time, the right leg has had to do all the work. The right hip complains about this. The left foot does not look or operate like the right. It is as if the legs are mismatched. The doctor said it would be about 6 months before both legs are back to normal. Maybe this will happen, maybe it won’t. Surgery is no guarantee. As long as I can walk without pain, the operation and aftermath will all be worth it.