Rigid

Over time, my right foot has slowly loosened up (as I’m striving to in life in general). When I first started rehab, it hardly moved at all, but with much work, some coaxing, and a few Botox injections, it began flickering a little and then bending a bit. Eventually, I reached a kind of compromise with it: my foot agreed not to give me much grief, and I accepted that it wouldn’t return to its former state, what I in retrospect recognize was a miracle of flexibility. And so I grew accustomed to, even fine with, its limited functionality.

You’ve probably guessed where this is going.

Sure enough, its good behaviour could only last so long. I don’t know what changed. The weather? Its mood? Whatever sparked its rebellion, rebel it did, and before I’d even realized what was happening, my toes were curled in a stubborn, talon-like gnarl again.

There are undoubtedly much more pitiful things than carting around a useless pile of bones and skin and ligaments, etc. at the end of one’s leg. Still, I would strongly prefer to have something more serviceable where what’s currently primarily a source of discomfort and consternation is. That fleeting period of peaceful cohabitation therefore made this unwelcome turn of events pierce like a sting.

To make matters worse, my confidence in using my foot as a somewhat stable base of support for transfers to and from my wheelchair has yet to recalibrate, which has resulted in a couple of close calls and one unfortunate incident that led to a (minor) knee injury. I’ve been trying to be realistic about the state of my appendage, but as it turns out, my brain is slow to adjust. No surprise there.

The only real solution? Pragmatic acceptance. My husband and I have established a new routine of twice-a-day foot rubs—a silver lining!—and I’ve been diligently doing the physio activities that’ll hopefully make my foot more pliable at some undetermined point in the future. As I grit my teeth and resentfully stare at my toes, I keep reminding myself that this is a speed bump, not a sign that my rehabilitation efforts have all come to naught.

Though there’s no point dwelling on the unchangeable, I’m determined to do what I can. After all, I know from experience that being inflexible in how I view the world and my body is less than helpful. In other words, just because my foot is rigid doesn’t mean that I have to be.