Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

“It was Barzini all along”

-          Don Corleone, The Godfather

That was the moment Don Corleone, The Godfather, realized that Don Barzini was the one that conspired against him.  A trusted ally (if such a thing exists in the underworld), was the one who organized the war against him; plotted Don Corleone’s downfall.

That’s exactly how I feel about my feet.

“It was my feet all along,” – me, now.

My feet, my first responders.  They’ve been with me from the beginning.  First steps.  First bike ride.  My first dance.  I thought they always had my back (and don’t get me started about my back).

Not sure when it happened, like most things in life, it snuck up on me.  Some days my feet would bother me, but quickly returned to normal.  Then one day, they hurt, and they stayed that way.  My feet felt like they were wrapped in bubble wrap.  A slight numbness crept up the ankles, ankles which now looked like they were making a fist.

Everything was now about my feet.  Never obsessed this so much about a body part before (wait, no, never mind, I take that back).

Worst thing you can do when something is wrong is to look up your symptoms on WebMD.

I will probably die soon.  Convinced now that I had poor circulation, heart, liver, or kidney disease.  Maybe even right-sided heart disease (the internet is so specific; who needs Obamacare).  It also said it could just be that I have really crappy shoes (no, not that, definitely right-sided heart disease).

Of course, always look for the bright side of a situation, red wine apparently is good for circulation.  Never one to turn down good advice, I went out and bought a galloon jug of red wine, like the one my grandmother guarded at her feet at the dinner table.  Her circulation must have been incredible.

Another option, soak feet in warm water and Epsom salt.  This little piggy went to market and came back with Epsom Salt.

The ultimate old man move, its good so the feet absorb magnesium (things I never thought I wanted to know).

Over the next few weeks my feet started to feel better.  But, I kept investigating.  Unfortunately, everything I read just reaffirmed that I was growing old.

We all remember Vicks VapoRub, your mom would put it on your chest when you had a cold.  Clarice Starling put a dab under her nose when investigating a decomposed body.  Well, there is a third use.

To open the pores in your feet (never thought I’d write that sentence, but this is what I have become) put generous amounts of Vicks VapoRub on your ankle and feet (don’t forget the soles) then slip on a pair of white athletic socks.

I truly hope to God they don’t find me dead in my recliner, feet propped up covered in Vicks VapoRub encased in white athletic socks.  They will wonder what kind of kinky shit this guy was into.

Truly, I can’t complain, so much worse things come with old age, sore feet should be the worst of my problems.

I accept that my life has evolved into a glass of red wine, hot foot bath with Epsom salt, feet slathered with Vicks VapoRub (my dating profile paints itself)

Just not looking forward to the day that ‘this little piggy went to market’ becomes ‘this little piggy went wee-wee-wee all the way home’.

Photo by How-Soon Ngu on Unsplash