Life in progress


Just call me Achilles

I’ve avoided whining about it for eight days but I’ve had enough. I don’t know exactly how a rant at this point is going to help, but here we go anyway.

I have a blister. OOOOhhhh, you say. Poor baby has a booboo. But this isn’t just a blister. It’s a boil sent from the universe to counteract every wonderful moment I had walking around Japan. It’s the bane of my existence. It’s the antithesis of joy come to smite me for being relatively healthy all my life. It’s the Blister From Hell!

Today will be my seventh day inside these four walls. Apart from going outside in the snow in -10 degree weather in bare feet and flip-flops last Friday to get Alex off the school bus, I’ve been completely housebound. Unable to wear shoes.

And for what? A spot on the side of my heel the size of a toonie (if you’re not Canadian, look it up) that’s gone from angry red to white and is now ringed in a lovely shade of mulberry with a gray poupon-coloured centre. (I’ll spare you a photo – you may never eat mustard again.) After eight days (EIGHT FRIGGIN’ DAYS) it still hurts to stand on my left foot.

What have I tried in order to relieve it? I’ve soaked it, I’ve popped it with mixed results, (the first time I tried I discovered it was a series of tiny blisters beneath the winter-thickened dry skin of my heels – I gave up after half a dozen attempts) I’ve tried grinning and bearing it, I’ve tried bandaging it, unbandaging it, putting cream on it, leaving it to dry… the result? I still can’t bear the idea of trying to get a shoe on. And I need groceries, damnit! I need fresh air! I need people–crowds–to inspire me to write something other than a whiny-rant/plea-for-escape!!

People, you are my last hope. Tell me what to do. To hell with sensitivity–I need results!