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Big Feet SlippersThey say, “With age, comes shrinking”.

Gravity is the culprit and I am no exception.

I was once 5’ 4 ½”, but now measure 5’ 3” at the doctor’s office.  This explains why cabinets are higher now and the upper reaches can only be accessed by standing on tiptoe.

The truth is, I am now a shrinking woman.  This is not a huge surprise.

But did you know FEET are also affected by the creeping/creepy years

I have just learned a second truth about aging –

BIGGER FEET!

Because none of my regular shoes fit anymore (which I thought was because of the intermittent  swelling of BigFoot), I was recently fitted for new shoes.

Foot MeasurerThe measurements were taken the old fashioned way you know by an orthotics expert who used one of those metal things you stand on.

Out of curiosity I asked, “So, what size am I?”

And the answer was, “9 to 9 ½.”“WHAT?” I practically screamed. “I have always been a Size 7 ½ to 8!  Are my feet GROWING?  No, your feet are going flat.

Your arches are falling.”

This revelation required some serious mulling over.

No wonder all my shoes are too tight to put on!

The old feet are growing as the arches fall  – a ridiculous/obvious fact with annoying repercussions.

For one thing I have a nice shoe collection.

It does not compete with Imelda Marcos, but includes:

Dress shoes in different colors and heel heights, lace-up athletic shoes (even though I have not been athletic in many a year), sandals in different colors and styles, boots in all their iterations, and all the various sizes of Walmart Specials to help during the BigFoot-Boot-Cane-MRI years.

Should I throw them all out and start over?

And how much more will these feet grow?

Maybe the solution is to stay inside wearing slipper socks until the feet reach maximum growth!

Life is full of mysteries.

It is my sincere hope that these Notes from An Incredible Shrinking Woman with Big Feet will inspire you to buy shoes with “give”.  Although you may not know it, your feet are definitely growing.

 

 

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The Top of My Hospital

The Top of My Hospital

We are approaching the end of a week.

Thankfully.

This week has been just chock full of exciting things.

I have been visiting my local hospital so often it is beginning to feel downright homey.

View from My Hospital's Parking Lot

View from My Hospital’s Parking Lot

I am also feeling popular, kindly and easily approachable..

Every time I go in for a test I meet some old fella (well maybe about my age) who immediately starts talking and tells me his whole life story including all current anatomical deficiencies.  It is more than I wish to know of course but I lend a sympathetic ear and nod and ooh and ahh in the right places.

I know you would like to hear why I have been visiting the hospital so often.  And since the hospital buddies/admirers never ask about MY reasons for being there, you are the unfortunate recipients of this sad tale of woe.

It all started with a swollen foot.  I think I told you about that about two weeks ago.

It ended with a tooth extraction.

And the swollen foot is still swollen.

I am finding it difficult to sort this all out too.  But here is an attempt.

I did go to my primary doctor about the foot.

“Should I baby it Doctor?”  “Or should I walk through it and exercise it away?”

“I won’t know that until I know what caused it,” said he.

And he promptly scheduled:

  • A blood test to rule out gout.   Nope, no gout.
  • An Echocardiogram to rule out heart.  Nope, heart’s just fine.
  • A sonogram to rule out a clot. Nope, no clot.
  • An X-ray to rule out a break or fracture.  Nope, no breaks or fractures.

None of these appointments could be scheduled on the same day – hence, the multiple hospital visits and the ever growing number of male acquaintances and their autobiographies.

About this time a back molar tooth (mine) became sensitive to pressure!

Then it began to really hurt non-stop.

That meant a trip to the dentist who said it was a bad tooth and had to come out ASAP.  He referred me to a tooth pulling specialist with a fancy name like Oral Maxillofacial Surgery.

And so yesterday I had an extraction there.  That means they yanked the offensive tooth right out!

I will not beleaguer you with details about that horror-fying experience, but the extractor person accomplished the deed  in 30 minutes.  Fortunately, Bill went along for the ride and was there to catch me as I staggered out.  He was my life-saver-hero who literally let me cry on his shoulder! That was yesterday and when the shakes wore off there was no pain and no pain since.

Note:  Next time I will request total anesthesia, gas, PUT ME OUT COLD PLEASE!

That brings me back to the swollen foot which is still swollen!

Now the doctor is talking about a possible MRI for the foot – not the tooth.

And while I wait, Bill purchased a glamorous set of hotpink and black lace-up, sturdy, walking shoes for me.  Ahh, I know it’s not a fur coat or diamonds, but I am hero worshipping anyway.

Bill Got Me Some New Shoes!

Bill Got Me Some New Shoes!

 

 

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