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very random thoughts

Foot of the Undead: 3

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Hopefully this will be the final installment in the foot of the undead series as the zombie foot returned to the realms of the living.

For now.

Of course, as Toni Morrison writes in Beloved, anything dead coming back to life hurts. And man did it hurt.

The natural process tiptoed up and fixed everything without much fanfare. The neurologist, however, had to check that all was well. And the way that one checks that nerves have no issues requires an electric current and needles.

So after what must have been an eternity of suffering an external electrical current in my legs followed by needles in both feet, legs, and lower back, the doctor pronounced everything as normal. He offered a diagnosis of a pinched nerve in my left leg at the knee, by crossing my leg, wearing tight clothes or high heels, or hitting my knee against something.

I will have to limit the amount that I wear high heels (no great sacrifice on my part), and I will be sure not to wear tight fitting clothes (the rest of the world will rejoice) all in an effort to prevent my foot from joining the league of the undead forever.

These modifications won’t simply be to keep from suffering the annoyance of dragging my foot everywhere again – I’ll need both feet to run from the hordes of the undead when the zombie apocalypse finally hits.

life, very random thoughts

Foot of the Undead: 2

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Voodoo DollThe zombie foot is returning from the realms of the undead, but not without a fight. Sure it’s no longer attempting to trip me with my own toes in an effort to kill me, but the sensory nerves in my lower back and right leg are hyper-sensitive. To the point that sold water feels like my leg is burning, and my efforts to scratch the random itching on my back result in me feeling as though my skin is peeling off under my nails.

But it’s not all bad. Because my foot was part of the undead, I got to experience a MRI and discover 2 very important facts about myself for life. 1.) I am not claustrophobic, though I prefer to have escape routes. 2.) I’m not allergic to the contrast they use to highlight nerves in MRIs, though as it is injected, I still bruise severely for a long time.

So all of me may, in fact, have to endure the final zombie apocalypse. Later in the week I visit the neurologist who will interpret the images the magnets picked up. That doctor will be the one to let me know how to finish reviving my undead foot. I’m just happy that, at least for now, my foot seems to have been made a zombie in the very traditional way – through Voodoo. I shall try to avoid Voodoo Doughnuts the next time I’m in Portland, OR, so as to avoid a relapse of zombie foot.

life

Foot of the Undead: 1

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This story is a true story. Smart readers will be immediately suspicious, but occasionally that’s the way it plays.

It started suddenly. One morning I woke up and had a hard time getting my knee to cooperate. I fought with it all day, dealing with the sidelong looks about how early it was to be that drunk. A lifetime of uncoordination made my buckling knee a nuisance, but bearable.

The next morning I woke up and stumbled to the bathroom. My knee worked with me, but my foot had begun rebelling. Making the most of the long toes at its disposal, my foot kept my toes perpendicular to the ground while the rest of me was moving parallel to it.

It was the constant attempt on my life through the potential for me falling that made me call the doctor early in the day. Faltering while I walk, I can easily adjust to. Constantly trying not to fall on my face, that’s a sign of serious wrong-doing. Of course, as my foot would have it, the doctor’s office was busy until the afternoon.

During the delay, my foot continue its attempts on my life. But it developed new symptoms. As the day continued, the less I could feel my foot. My toes moved from difficult to control to completely unresponsive. By the time I could see my doctor, my foot had also become cool to the touch. And then I knew for sure.

My foot had become a member of the undead.

It was quite shocking, realizing that my foot would, in a sense, outlive me. And potentially attack me for my brain.

According to my doctor, I have a condition – Drop Foot. I may or may not have a pinched nerve in my back that’s preventing my foot from getting the messages my brain is sending.

But I know that problem is that my foot has moved to the realms of the undead. I’ll still get the MRI and talk to the neurologist. And we’ll see what happens next.

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