by Cindy Leyland
This article originally appeared on ProHealth and is reprinted here with the permission of the Editor.
Yesterday was a really good day. Even a visit to the doctor was pleasant; I told him I felt great, all of my symptoms are under control (asthma, fibromyalgia, depression), and I spent time doing my favorite volunteer activity – holding babies at a domestic violence shelter.
Then there’s today. Every inch of my body hurts. Even the hairs on my arms hurt. My eye sockets are throbbing. There’s a dagger in my left side. My arthritic right thumb is falling off.
What’s the difference?
I used to be the Imelda Marcos of our family. For those of you who are too young to know about Imelda, it’s sufficient to say that she really, really liked shoes. As do I. But shoes when you are young and fibro is new are much different from the shoes you wear when you’re not so young and fibro has been your companion for many years.
I used to have heels in every color and sometimes I had two pairs of the same color. One of my most favorite shoes in the world was a pair of glorious patent leather peep toe two-inch heels. They were so sweet. And I looked really good in them. Sweet. Every lack in my life could be filled with a nice pair of shoes.
Now it’s sensible shoes. Old lady shoes. Almost flat shoes with a bit of a wedge. And even some of them cause a major flare. Like today. These decent name-brand shoes with a small wedge that look oh, so sensible, are today’s curse. They’re fairly new and each time I’ve worn them, I’ve thought “oh, they will get better; I just need to get used to them.” I’m done. They’re going in the “Donate” pile.
Life is too short to wear uncomfortable shoes.
Especially uncomfortable sensible shoes.