I went to my podiatrist on Wednesday. What a coincidence that this week’s prompt is about feet!

I have had three hammer toes for several years now. You can say I was not “on my toes” or very attentive about them. They don’t bother me except when I wear leather shoes but I mostly wear canvas shoes or sneakers. A few years ago, a guy I knew told me not to wear sandals anymore because I have ugly feet. This surprised me because I have no calluses or bunions. I started putting lotion on my feet every morning before going to work as a nurse years ago. The skin on my tootsies is as smooth as a “baby’s butt”.

I procrastinated about going to the podiatrist. I am a procrastinator, but I had good reasons this time. The affected foot is my right one. If surgery was required to fix my problem, it would mean I couldn’t drive to work. I was furloughed from my job in March because of the pandemic, but I didn’t want to have surgery at that time. I like to garden and wanted to be able to do this. Also, wearing a boot all summer would be hot. I assumed the pandemic would be over by the end of October. If surgery was prescribed, and I hoped it wouldn’t be, if it was scheduled for mid-October, I would have an excuse not to answer the door to the hundreds of trick-or-treaters who get bussed into my neighborhood each Halloween. Hating to cook, we could eat out on Thanksgiving and I would be all healed and ready to party at Christmas. Perfect! These would be small rewards for having had surgery. My Dad often said I was always thinking.

I have a group of friends who pray for each other when we have a medical problem. I asked them to pray that I didn’t need surgery. The procedure to repair hammer toes is quite involved and requires pins and crutches. I was hoping for a non-surgical solution. Their prayers were answered but not as hoped for.

I expected the doctor to tell me I have lovely feet. I gave myself a pedicure on Sunday night and put rose lotion on my feet before I left for the appointment. I am sure he sees many hooves with dry skin, calluses and ugly, dirty toenails. He did not mention my lovely digits or their pleasant scent.

He told me that he would not operate on my hammer toes because I am too old. What? I am a baby boomer, but I don’t consider myself to be old. At that point, I wanted surgery. I asked him. “How can I go dancing? I can’t wear bedroom slippers.” “Buy bigger shoes.” He told me.

Truthfully, I never go dancing.

My mother always said “If you want June to do something, tell her she can’t. She will then do it out of spite. Reverse psychology always works.” I am thinking of getting a second opinion.

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