Sidelined Thoughts on Walking

Spring is springing! 

In recent days, I have been reminded, bluntly, that I am indeed disabled. This message came not in any dramatic way, but in the humblest of ways: my feet.

Seriously. My feet.

Back at the end of 2022, as I finished up several sessions with my podiatrist, he said words to the effect of "you don't need to see me again unless things change." I had shoes with far better support, my walking was back on track, and life was good. Even after the medical upheavals on 2023 and early 2024 (the hospitalization for acute pancreatitis, the broken wrist, the gallbladder removal, to name a few), I built my life back up, including walking. With the increasingly positive reviews coming out of Mayo, I was on a roll.

Until I wasn't.

I always have some pain/neuropathy issues with my feet. Specifically, my left foot. And while the neuropathy has abated the longer I go without treatment (20 months, but who's counting? Oh, I am...), there has always been some small pain issues in the toes (hammer toes, to name one), but nothing major. I knew from my past podiatry history that, like my beloved Aunt Ginger, the metatarsals were spreading apart as I aged, making that foot more prone to arthritis. 

"Genetics," said the podiatrist back then. I could live with that.

But earlier this year, I started to be aware of pain—different pain—in my right foot. Not in the same place as on the left, and not what I had been aware of before. It interrupted my sleep and, worse, it started interfering with my walking. I knew I should call my podiatrist but didn't get to it until two weeks ago, when the pain became so severe mid-walk that I came to a complete stop, tried to breathe through it, thought of calling Warren to pick me up, then finished the walk, limping. (So why didn't I call Warren? Because I was two blocks away from home and was EMBARRASSED to!) So a call to the podiatrist, an appointment last Tuesday, and, well, here we are. 

Nothing horrible mind you, but definitely not a minor "don't worry about it" either. 

The short version is BOTH of my feet are currently wrapped and taped. I am taking ibuprofen, not for the pain, but for the inflammation, which is considerable. (It even shoved the arthritis to the side both in the discussion and on the x-rays.) What I thought was a callous on my right sole was bursitis pushing out through my foot. (Who knew?) I soak the wraps off at home this Tuesday and go back to see him the following week for more follow-up. There will likely be a custom support for the right foot in the near future and probably a new pair of my regular shoes with different supports (I wear Hokas, which are not cheap). 

Oh, and NO WALKING until I see him on the 28th. And then we will see.

NO WALKING. 

Oh,  I can walk "a little," as in around the house or to the car and into a building. Short, necessary bits of walking. But NO WALKING as in "get out the door and go walk to clear my mind" walking. 

Back in 2014, I wrote about seeing the movie Walking the Camino: Six Ways to Santiago and the powerful impact it had on me.  Last night I caught a story on CBS about walking the Camino in the 21st century. I watched it by myself first and then Warren and I watched it together. When we finished, I turned to him and told him I was a bit sad seeing it. My answer surprised Warren. Why was I sad? Because it reminded me of how, grateful beyond grateful though I am to still be here a decade later, I still will never walk the Camino and that loss will always be in me. 

A few weeks after seeing the movie in 2014, I blogged about the act of pilgrimage in and of itself, independent of the Camino. I went back and reread that one in finishing today's post. For me (me, not anyone else; I don't pretend to know what motivates others), my life has to have a strong element of pilgrimage to be meaningful. It is tied up with my commitment to tikkun olam and to strengthening this community.  

And I can do that even while sidelined from walking. 

But I really, really want the walking back. Stay tuned. 

And at the End of One

As I have done for several years, and as many other blogger friends do, I track our grocery spending annually. "Grocery" means food bought for home preparation and consumption, and common household items such as toilet paper and laundry detergent. I do not track our eating out expenses. With very rare exception, we don't eat out, and "eating out" includes getting takeout meals or an ice cream cone. Those costs almost never exceed $50.00 a month, even when we head to Mayo, and in any year, we might eat out (except for the occasional ice cream cone) maybe, oh, four of the twelve months. 

So, looking at First Quarter 2025 grocery spending, the results are...

Eye opening. 

At the end of three months, our grocery expenditures were (drum roll, please) $436.10, or an average of $145.37 per  month. Of that amount, a whopping $13.65 was household: parchment paper and toilet paper. That is 3% of the overall spending.

3%. 

The rest was for food: perishables, some stock-up shopping. Okay, there was what I will call a "splurge" from our trip to Mayo in late February. Between the Kwik Trip cinnamon rolls, which have gone up in cost (what hasn't?) and hitting the Rochester Trader Joe's (the only Trader Joe's we shop at, period), we bought and brought home $31.94 of groceries on that trip. 

Okay, okay, we can live with that kind of splurge. As I go through the notes I make (yes, I keep a spreadsheet and make notes as to what the purchases are), I see I wrote "This is NOT about deprivation." We eat well. Probably the biggest change in our diets over recent months, as a result of aging (both of us) and as a result of my major hospitalization and the physical/medical fallout from it in 2023-2024, is that we simply do not eat as much as we used to. So food just lasts longer. 

How much less do we eat? Here is a recent rare meal out (it was a special Warren/April anniversary): we bought two lunch plates (and a tamale) at a local Mexican restaurant. We brought home what we did not eat and ate the leftovers later. From the whole event, in addition to the lunch at the restaurant, we got two more lunches and two more suppers at home. So that was five meals for two adults or ten meals total. To stretch it, we also had a small salad each on one supper, tortilla chips with the lunch, and a side of rice with the last supper (and there is still rice left to make another meal from). Small additions to the overall initial lunches, trust me. 

We are concentrating on "eating down" the food in our upright freezer (100 cubic feet) and that too keeps costs down. There are still frozen vegetables from 2024 (zucchini, sweet corn, pesto) that we hope to finish before the 2025 season starts. We have one turkey (Justice Bus!) and one ham still frozen. With Easter coming up, we hope ham prices drop enough that we can buy a few for the freezer. And I am wishful (but prepared to not have this one granted) that egg prices will drop even a little bit for Easter as well. 

Who knows? Who knows anything about grocery prices in these turbulent times?

First quarter is in the books; let's see what the next three months bring!