After he died my parents started going through the house. They secured several firearms. One story that still makes me laugh:

Mom: “We found this revolver with no serial number, not registered. I didn’t know what to do with it. I mean it’s a gun. I certainly don’t want it.
Me: “So what did you do with it?”
Mom: “Well David (family friend) was there. I looked at him and said ‘David, do you want a gun?”
Me: “You gave him a gun?!?!”
Mom: “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
Me: “Um. A lot of things. Does he have a gun permit? The gun isn’t registered. I’m pretty sure that’s not legal.”
Mom: “Well he has other guns. I figured I don’t want this near me. Should I have done something else?”

Gotta love my mother. (For the record she made him bring it back and is going to get it registered.)

So then several weeks later they’ve completed round 1 of the house cleaning. Secured all 8 of the firearms. This had my mom really nervous: “Caro, what do I do with these? I mean, I need to dispose of them somehow, but I’m not driving them somewhere. Taking them in my car. Where would I even take them? The police station? Just throw them on a table and say ‘Here officers. I don’t want these.’”

But then they found my uncle’s homeowner’s policy. The one that had the itemized list of firearms. 10 firearms. As previously mentioned, various family members had only located 8. So there’s 2 weapons unaccounted for somewhere in the house. Um…..that could be a problem. Know what else could be a problem? 7 of the secured guns were loaded. 2 of them fully loaded.

So basically there’s 2 guns MIA in the house. Possibly loaded. How does one lose 2 guns? Especially when one of them is a .22 caliber rifle with a scope.

Happy hunting to us. Literally!

Before I comment on the movie, I must comment on the things that happened before the movie. I saw Eclipse with my mom and sister. My dad felt left out, so he took my niece to see Toy Story 3, which was playing at the same time. However, we had to arrive at the theater over an hour early so we could brave the line of angst-ridden tweens who are obsessed with one or the other of the main characters in the Twilight Saga. This is a summary of the stuff I saw/encountered:

• Someone asked if the 4 year old would be coming into the movie. No we are not taking a 4 year old into a PG-13 movie she’s not old enough to understand and will easily be bored by. She actually said to me “Oh I thought she might be a Twilight fan”. Are you kidding? She’s 4. YOU ARE CRAZY and shouldn’t be allowed to have children
  
• The theater had set up chairs for us to use while we waited in line for the theater to open. Seated next to us was a group of 4 maybe 13-year-olds. (I say maybe because kids are looking younger and younger to me, and yes that DOES make me an old lady.) They all have on these bracelets, the rubber kind that were made popular a few years ago by the LiveStrong Foundation. Except these bracelets said “I <3 Justin Bieber” … I tried to covertly take a picture but the chick closest to me kept moving her arm.
• When we got into the theater I realized I was sitting next to the only grown man at this showing. Was he there with his teenaged daughter? Nope. He was there with his same-age girlfriend.
• The remainder of the theater had an average age of about 15 (my mom, sister, and I raised the average significantly). There was an occasional teen guy, obviously dragged there by his girlfriend. Some tried to cover their faces, others embraced this as a challenge. It was entertaining. Especially the dude in the Edward shirt LOL
• Before the movie started, a woman came into the theater to sell Twilight t-shirts. OMG they’re selling t-shirts here? It’s like a concert. Only not. I think the most entertaining part of this is that people were screaming with excitement about this prospect, but not a single person purchased a shirt. I guess they should have asked their parents for more money!

sorry so grainy!

• The movie started and I swear I lost some of my hearing when Jacob first came on the screen, shirtless of course. I’ve never heard girls shriek at such a decibel before. It’s mind blowing.

Anyway that’s all of my observations. I was expecting the shrieking, I was expecting the tweens, but the other stuff was just icing on the cake. Now onto the movie:

It was good! I could have waited to see it a week or two, but I definitely enjoyed it. The acting was significantly better this time, although Kristin Stewart is terrible regardless. The special effects were also pretty awesome. The plot is the one thing that bothered me (well besides the fact that the whole thing has blatant Mormon overtones and the fact that the main female character is so unbelievably weak. But those were just a given). I mean, you could remove this entire movie/book and nothing would change in the saga. We’re still left where we were at the end of New Moon – Bella and Edward are going to get married, Jacob is in love with Bella.

Regardless of the negatives, it was still well worth my (sister’s) $11. Very entertaining – 4 stars.

Product highlights include:

• Each capsule has 200mg of caffeine and dishes it out in steady doses throughout an 8 hour period
• Vegetarian capsule! (Super important – can’t cut out an entire demographic of potential customer! lol)
• Pure, unprocessed (non-synthetic) caffeine from Colombian Green Coffee Beans (unprocessed and direct into your capsule?)
• Special coating to reduce the potential of an upset stomach (none of those pesky ulcers coffee can give you LOL)

Next thing you know there will be an injectable version of this product. Injectable caffeine: the gateway drug to heroine. Purchase yours here for only $8.99 (box of 12)!

It’s my own fault and was bound to happen at some point. After all, I’m the one who decided it would be a GREAT idea to go back to school, borrow a boat load of money to finance said education, and now am stuck in a profession where I can’t find a job that pays. Seriously. My “job” in my field – yeah it’s unpaid. I work full time on the side for income so I can work for free.

Why did I think this was a good idea again? I can’t for the life of me recall what I was thinking.

Anyway enough whining. I made my bed. Now I have to lay in it. I need help cutting costs. So far this is what I’ve thought of:

*Bring lunch to work Monday, Wednesday, Friday (easy). I probably already do this 1-2 days.
*Bring lunch Tuesday/Thursday – trickier because of a lack of refrigeration/microwave. I’ll have to work on this one.
*STOP the starbucks trips. This was a bad habit. Although I have had a gift card so I’m not sure how much I’ll actually save.
*No more dinners out. Those are expensive and probably not good for my waistline anyway
*No trips to the mall. None. I should probably avoid Target while I’m at it.

Where else can I save a few bucks here and there? I guess I can take the bus to work 2-3 days a week. That will save a minimal amount of gas. Might actually help Marla too. I need ideas from all my other recessionista friends!!

• Andrew and Rhianna got married. It was a beautiful ceremony and a super fun reception. It was also my first run at being a bridesmaid and it was a completely different experience than I had imagined.
• My cousin got engaged. I’m totally stoked for him.
• I went to the doctor (again) for my foot. After 2 MRIs and 2 appointments within 4 days, I finally have a clearer picture of what’s going on with Marla. There are 3 issues total in my one foot (ffffuuuu). It IS a tumor, but it’s not cancerous. Hopefully the painful cortisone shot I got will make this issue go away once and for all.
• I took a small (but very eventful!) road trip last weekend with some wonderful ladies to attend Jess’s bridal shower. It was a lovely event. I won a prize too
• My great uncle went to the ER yesterday morning. He died today. It never really occurred to me prior to yesterday that when you say “great uncle” people kind of brush you off assuming this is a distant relative and it’s not a big deal. On the contrary, I was incredibly close to this man. My mom lost her father when she was 23. Angelo stepped in and became a second father to her, even walking her down the aisle at her wedding. I’m absolutely devastated.

There’s not really much else to say. It’s 4:45am and I can’t sleep. I can say this: I have the most amazing family and an incredible boyfriend. I know that while I’m crumbling into pieces I am loved and supported. We are a close knit group and this loss has brought us closer. For that I am grateful.

And now back to Boy Meets World. Because that seems to be the only thing on at this hour.

Let’s quickly review the bullshit

~6 years ago: I noticed a “knot” in the arch of my foot. It didn’t go away despite all kinds of massages

~5 years ago: I ask my foot doctor about it. He tells me I have plantar fibromatosis. At the time it’s not really hurting, it’s just mostly a nuisance.

~4 years ago: I decide (jokingly) that I have a foot tumor. I name it Marla, after Fight Club.

~2ish years ago: Marla begins to cause some intense pain. It’s not horrible and mostly comes and goes with exercise/walking a lot. Being cheap, I decide to just deal with it.

This past year:

-The pain became unbearable after excessive walking or exercise
-I started getting charlie horse style cramps consuming my arch and toes
-Pain is now the norm so I suck it up and get a referral to a podiatrist (yes, I chose the HMO)
-Podiatrist tells me it’s plantar fascitis. He sends me for custom orthotics and physical therapy
-Physical therapists turn out to be sadists and I believe it is their mission to torture me. I had two of them over the course of 6 sessions and both told me they think I have a stress fracture in my foot. If the pain continues, go back for an x-ray. In the meantime, keep doing the stretches.

And now we’re at the present.

I was in a wedding on Saturday (post to follow soon!) and knew running around, especially in heels, would be taxing on Marla. I vowed to just get through it and then call the doctor the following week to schedule a routine x-ray. I called the doctor yesterday and somehow was able to get in the same day. Score!

Ok the doctor looked at my foot. Poked on THE spot, aka the CORE of Marla. Yeah, he made me cry. I have a high pain tolerance, but I can only handle so much. This shit HURT. The doctor seemed to get mad almost (at the physical therapist i assume), as he informed me that there is no way I could have a stress fracture – there isn’t a bone there! So he took out a surgical marker and a yellow highlighter and started drawing on me. Why? To highlight the nerves. Apparently there were TWO things going on in my foot: plantar fascitis, and whatever the fuck this is.

Now the that plantar fascitis is under control and that portion of my foot isn’t swollen, the remainder of the problem is much more obvious. I was told an x-ray would be useless; I needed an MRI. Something about the nerve being constricted like with Carpal Tunnel. I honestly have no idea what the man was talking about, but after some intense googling, I found Tarsal Tunnel Syndrome. I think that’s what he’s talking about.

Whatever I have is rare (go me). However, in 75% of cases it can be fixed with some sort of injection. Again, no clue what’s happening. If the nerve is too shut out, as in a quarter of the cases, surgery is required. Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I went for my MRI.

After waiting several hours (better to wait there for a while than to go all the way home just to come all the way back another day!), I got in the tube. This thing took like 45+ minutes. In the end I was given a stack of pages full of images. Of course I went home and tried to decipher them. Too bad I’m not a radiologist and have NO idea wtf I’m looking at. I did clearly notice Marla. She looks like a white hunk of gum on the image. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be there, but it was kinda cool looking.

Then I got to work this morning. As I’m walking in, my cell rings. Unknown number. Weird. Hello? Oh it’s the hospital. My doctor has requested further imaging based on yesterday’s results.

WTF?!

So apparently I also need to get an MRI with contrast. I’m scheduled for this afternoon. They wouldn’t tell me what’s going on. I’m kind of worried.

So to summarize, I have been given like 4 potential diagnoses over the past like 5 years, who knows how many were correct. It is still unknown what the fuck is wrong with me, and I have to go get radioactive shit pumped into me tonight. On the bright side, I feel like I’m closer to finding a real answer. Heck, I might even glow in the dark!

I ordered my bridesmaid dress about 2 months ago. I hadn’t lost all the weight I had wanted to, but I was pretty OK with how things were looking. I got measured and prepared myself for the size they would tell me to buy. After all, bridal runs super small so you feel like a heffer when they order your dress.

They told me I matched with the 12. Fine. Order it. It’s just a number. It arrived 3 weeks ago, and wouldn’t you know it, this shit is too big. Strapless + I should have ordered a 10 = wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. The dress didn’t even stay up.

I brought it to a tailor to get it taken in 10 days ago. It was supposed to be ready a week later. I drove all the way up there, and wouldn’t you know it, that shit isn’t ready. I couldn’t get back up there Friday, so I went yesterday. I tried on the dress at my parents, and my mom and her friend liked it.

I don’t.

The seamstress took it in on the sides, and took it in at the top of the back. I made her take it in tight. Strapless freaks me out. I don’t want to be pulling the dress up all night, so seriously sew it up! The thing I didn’t realize at the time, was that she didn’t take anything out from the middle of the back/bottom of the zipper area. So basically the dress is more or less a size smaller in all areas EXCEPT the back. It sticks out, kinda flares out to the back. It does that in the front too, cuz it’s supposed to I think? Either way, I look as wide back-to-front as I do side-to-side. I can’t handle this.

I tried it on just now to show J and get his opinion. So yesterday the top fit well. Today my fat ass skin hangs over the top of the dress. The way that skin inevitibly does over a strapless top unless you’re a pre-pubescent girl. I definitely gained a couple of pounds in the last 10 days, and now I’m apparently too fat for my dress. Oh and the parts that do fit? Yeah that makes me look and additional 20 pounds heavier. AWESOME.

I’m flipping out. There is NO way I can be seen in public as this currently stands. I’m driving up to the tailor at 7am and making her take more off the back. I’m limiting my food to I don’t even know what. Fruits, veggies, yogurt and water? Maybe nonfat salami or milk for protein. Count on me to be in the gym at least once daily between now and Saturday. 5 pounds need to GO. I’d settle for 3. Today has NOT been a happy day in the life of Caro.

I finally decided this wasn’t right and I needed to get my full money’s worth. I went back to the “low vision specialist” and told her I can’t see. I’m sure that’s not a new thing for her! I was able to get in that same day even. Amazing! Rather than just rushing me out the door or telling me I’m fine (or worse yet, “good enough” – I hate when people say that!), she actually took quite a long time trying to fix the problem. Everything from giving me a fresh pair of lenses, to examining the fit in my eye, and even re-doing the assessment (“which is better – 1 or 2? ok how about 3 or 4? lol).

Down side: my left eye isn’t cooperating and at the present moment cannot be fixed to better than 20/30. OK I cried about this at home, but that’s a different issue altogether. The right eye has issues too. Specifically, I have an astigmatism. I have one in both eyes, and they correct the other one. They’ve never corrected the right one before. Here’s the deal: the astigmatism is slight. The lowest amount of correction is too much. But if they give me no astigmatism correction, it’s not enough. So which is the worse evil: contacts that are too powerful or contacts that are not quite powerful enough?

I’m finding out this week. I picked up new lenses this morning. She gave me two lenses to try. So now I have choice A) the old lens; choice B) Toric lens 1; and choice C) Toric lens 2.

I’m wearing option B today and it’s kinda strange. Like I can see super crisp when I look straight ahead. Peripheral vision isn’t so great though. I have only been indoors so far, so I have yet to see what the outside world looks like from a Toric lens perspective. Hopefully it’s good. I’ll let you know!

After waking up at the crack of dawn yesterday and sort of zombie-ing through my morning, I decided that I MUST get to bed early last night. Yet despite my best efforts, I didn’t make it to my bed until around 11. Alarm starts chirping just a few short hours later, and I’m NOT a happy camper. I think I snoozed for like 35 minutes before finally giving in to the little voice in my head telling me I need to get up, leave my warm bed, and face the day. Ugh. Fine.

Again, eyes don’t wanna open. It’s cold. I don’t wanna leave my house. So I throw on some jeans (and not exactly my nicest pair either lol), running shoes (the physical therapist wants to check them out), a shirt, and a sweatshirt. It’s not the nicest of outfits, but it works OK for work, and it’s comfy. I then quickly throw my hair up in a pile on top of my head, and really it’s not too polished looking, but I simply couldn’t care less at this point. Obviously I’m also wearing my glasses. Let’s be honest – if my eyes don’t even want to open, jamming contacts into them just isn’t a choice. I figured I’ll just clean up a bit after physical therapy when I’m more awake.

Thankfully I made a pot of coffee this morning. A strong pot of coffee. Started chugging that before I even got into my car lol. It was kinda sorta maybe kicking in a little bit the more I drank. I’m about halfway to PT at this point, and starting to feel a little better. Got some good music playing…it might end up being a good morning after all.

Then the morning gets interesting.

About 3 cars in front of me I see this truck kinda sway/drift over to the right. He compensates my cutting to the left. Only he over compensates. Big time over compensates – dude spins out. So I see a spinning truck, hella cars slamming on brakes, people swerving in all kinds of directions (think parting of the red sea but with vehicles), the car in front of me (also slamming on brakes, clearly) is quickly approaching. FOOT ON BRAKE ON FLOOR…PLEASE LET ME STOP! Check the rearview mirror, yep car behind me is quickly approaching, fuck I’m about to get sandwiched here. FUCK PLEASE STOP CAR.FUCK FUCK FUCK. I’m gonna hit this SUV. Goddamnit I was JUST in a sandwich accident, please don’t let this happen AGAIN.

I stop.

Wait – I didn’t hit the car?!? SCORE!

CRASH!

OK the car behind me hit me. But not very hard.

Quickly assess the situation: Truck facing the wrong way almost next to me, crashed car up ahead a little, car in front of me that I didn’t hit accelerating away, cars starting to clear out. OK I should pull over – I guess to the center divide?

Yep, pull over to the center divide. There’s no shoulder so I’m definitely  parked in the carpool lane with my hazard lights on. Before even getting out of the car I knew 9-1-1 had to be dialed. At minimum we need a tow truck and we are absolutely blocking traffic. Hopefully no one is hurt!

I get out of the car and am greeted by the really nice Asian guy who hit me. We somehow instantly become friends. Ask if anyone is hurt. No. 911 wants to know how many cars. 4. No injuries, just send a tow truck please. They say they’ll do that, and hang up. About a minute later Asian guy and I see a cop BLAZING down the freeway in the other direction, lights and sirens in full effect. We look at each other and laugh. Is that for us? LOL probably. A minute goes by. A firetruck, also lights and sirens, comes blazing down the other side of the freeway. Asian guy and I look at each other and really start laughing. A firetruck!?! Wow… we are those people. The ones that you rubberneck at to see wtf happened.

While we’re waiting for these emergency vehicles, I suggest we exchange info. As I’m walking to my car to get mine + a pen and paper, the guy in the truck comes up to me and he’s like “OK well if no one is hurt I’m gonna take off. I have to get to work.” Without hesitation I was like “UM no. You can’t leave.” “Why not?” “Well, for starters, it’s illegal to leave the scene of an accident.” “Oh.”

Sensing the man who caused the accident was an impending flight risk, I quickly wrote down his license plate. I then asked if he had insurance. He said, “Wow you’re like the police.”

Um, no. No I’m not like the police. I’m just trying to be proactive and get this shit together so I can go on my way, and you caused this so I’m gonna do everything in my power to ensure that you don’t leave. Since this really alerted me that something was up with this dude. I asked if he had insurance. He said yes, but didn’t make any moves to get it out of his car. Thinking he probably didn’t have insurance, and for that matter was possibly not even legal, I asked his name. Jose. OK Jose do you have a last name? “Yes”. lol

I was going to try and pursue the issue further, when I see flashing lights. Cars started parting so it could get through. Yep ladies and gentlemen, a firetruck had arrived. Asian guy and I again start chuckling. There is simply NO need for a firetruck to be here.

Three (quite attractive) men get out of the truck. Remember when I described how I looked this morning? Yeah, definitely wishing I had put in more effort before I left. I was one hot mess! And these were three attractive firefighters. Damn. So they assess for injuries. No one is hurt. “So really – no one has any neck pain? Back pain? No one wants us to take a look at them?” Um, sir you should rephrase that. I don’t NEED you to look at me, but I definitely might WANT you to. LOL.

As they’re assessing the situation, another firetruck rolls in. Asian guy and I are about to die at this point. We don’t even need one firetruck, much less two. Firetruck 1 waves them away. As the highway patrol arrives, so does a THIRD firetruck. Seriously? I mean I guess I told the 911 operator that there were 4 cars involved, but I also specified there were 0 injuries. You would think they would get the hint and not send out three totally unnecessary firetrucks. Not that I’m complaining though – it was nice to look at!

Then the highway patrol decides to take over the situation. They tell us all to go stand by our own cars so they can visualize who has what, etc. I obey. As they’re going to the Asian’s car to take his statement, one of the officers has a brilliant idea that if no one is hurt, why not pull the cars out of the lane and over to the shoulder. I hear this and think to myself – um across 4 other lanes of traffic? Are you joking, sir? No he’s not joking. I ask what the plan is – should I follow you? No. We’ll block traffic. I was skeptical, but got in my car. Looked over my shoulder only to see not a single car coming. Not even one. Yep, there are 3 highway patrol officers standing in the freeway, one in almost each lane, with a line of cars at a dead halt in front of them. I guess that’s my cue to go! So I mosy over to the shoulder, get out and talk to an officer who takes all of my information. Apparently we’re treating this as 2 accidents: I was rear-ended and there is no damage, and these other 2 fools were in a major accident with tons of damage. I guess I”m on the better side of that sheet of paper! After informing me that he would not file a report, the officer told me I was free to go. Really? That seems too easy.

I said OK well I definitely think the truck is to blame, but I have a feeling he’s not going to take responsibility. I also don’t think he has insurance, and I kinda feel bad for the driver of the other car (which is likely totaled) cuz that dude was on his way to the immigration office and is now freaking out that he’s gonna get deported. The officer kinda smiled and was like “yeah there’s a situation over there. Neither of those drivers have licenses or insurance. But that’s pretty common on this particular stretch of highway. We’ll give you a call if we need any witness statements. For now, you can leave.”

So I got in my car, put all my crap away, and looked up. The officer was standing in traffic again, clearing a path for me to get back on the freeway. What service!!

At this point I realized that my heart is definitely pounding, my eyes are WIDE OPEN, and I am ALERT. Coffee has most definitely kicked in at this point and I am PUMPED and ready to face the day. Nothing like a big pile up on the freeway and a little coffee to kick start your morning! Thanks Jose!

About a week and a half ago I went in for my consult and evaluation. It was kinda odd, but based on past physical therapy sessions for other problems, I was expecting odd. She needed to observe and measure all kinds of things related to my foot, so I took off both shoes and socks. She looked at my feet while I just stood there. She had me raise up to my toes while standing on both feet. She had me stand on one foot at a time so she could look at something else. Then she made me walk up and back the room so she could see stuff when I walked. Then I laid down.

Here’s where it got really sad: she measured my calf/Achilles flexibility. When you’re laying back and you pull your toes up to a 90 degree angle (toes to the sky), that 90 degree angle is considered “0″. Pull your toes in toward your shin more, and every degree beyond 90 is +1. So you want the 80 degree angle: +10 on their scale. Ok so when I first got measured a week and a half ago, I was at -5. MINUS 5. So that’s 15 degrees of flexibility that I’m lacking. OK people, it turns out this isn’t bad; it’s ABYSMAL. Apparently the average elderly person has more flexibility in their calf/Achilles. Heck even my “good” foot is only at a +5. OK fine, my ankle and calf aren’t flexible. Whatever — fix me!!

Since the evaluation took up most of our session (we also chatted about pain, history, symptoms, etc), there wasn’t much time for anything else. She rubbed my foot a little, which sounds nice but let’s face it – Marla is a beast and doesn’t like anything. So while it was nice to have the lotion applied to my foot, this wasn’t exactly pleasurable. Next I flipped over onto my stomach. OK when you’re in physical therapy, never let them get you into this position. It’s the position they use to inflict cruel and unusual punishment. She told me she was going to ice my foot. Again, sounds nice right? NO. NO, NOT RIGHT AT ALL. She took an ice cube, and rubbed it DIRECTLY on my arch for 3 minutes. If this doesn’t sound like hell to you, go ahead and try it yourself. She warned me that it would hurt at first, then it would burn, but that by about 90 seconds to 2 minutes into this “therapy” my foot would become numb and I wouldn’t feel it anymore.

Are you joking? I am all for icing a wound, but sweet Jesus this is insane!

After what seemed like an eternity, three minutes ended. Nice and numb, I was shown a calf stretch and told to do it 3-5 times a day. Then I was sent home. Fantastic.

Did I stretch 3-5 times per day? Hell no. It’s not that I don’t want to do it. It’s that I’m busy and it’s not convenient to do it. For instance, I share the office at my new job with like 10 other people. Am I just supposed to get up and start stretching in the middle of the room in the middle of the workday? And not just one time, but repeatedly? I dunno about that. I probably only did an average of 2 stretch sessions per day, which I figure is better than nothing.

Last week I had 2 more sessions. These were full-length. She started by using the Ultra-Sound machine on my foot. It’s pretty cool, totally painless, and takes up a solid 7-8 minutes of the session. If only it were longer. Basically they just put some jelly on the controller, turn the machine on, and rub your foot down. It’s not the same machine they use at the hospital to like look at babies or other things inside of you, but rather is just a little microphone-looking thing that shows no image and just gets rubbed around. I asked how in the heck this is “therapeutic” and was told the ultra-sound waves are thought to send vibrations throughout the area that signal to the chemicals causing the inflammation that they should go away now. Less inflammation = less pain. Sweet.

I thought that given the pain-free start to the session, this was a sure sign that the torture from the time before would not be repeated. Oh how I was wrong!! When I said that I was tortured before, that was only the start of evil things to come. Massages on my arch? Pain. In some places it feels nice. In other places it makes me want to cry. But let’s talk about massages on my calf. Again, sounds nice right? Again, FALSE.

They put your foot in a flexed position, perhaps a 90 degree angle. Remember when I said I was initially at -5, that’s a 95 degree angle. So already, my calf is being stretched 5 degrees. Apparently it’s painful to massage a stretched muscle. No, it’s not painful. That’s not the right word. It’s like she had some sort of ability to shove her hand into my muscle and rip pieces of it out, in these nice slow stroke motions. Teeth clenching. Fingers grasping tightly at the pillow I lay on. Telling her I’m in pain and asking if it should hurt that bad. None of it made the pain go away, and none of it made her stop or even ease up. I cannot say with any certainty how long this persisted, but dear god it felt like forever. And then it ended. HOORAY! Oh wait, now that we’re done here you need to ice my foot again? Seriously? At least she gave me an ice pack (wrapped in a towel thankfully) for my calf. Whew that was tough.

Repeat that again, then fast forward to today with the substitute.

She didn’t just want to blindly look at the notes and continue with therapy, so she did some new measurements and observations before she started. And unlike the other therapist, she didn’t keep her thoughts to herself. In fact, she didn’t hold anything back either. Talk about brutally honest! “Your feet really should belong to two different people. The right one has a normal arch that lowers when you step, the way it should. Your left foot has a high arch and doesn’t even move a little when you step. This is terrible. You should have had this fixed years ago.”

OK thanks lady. I didn’t get it fixed years ago, but I’m here now. Fix it. First, more measurements. She didn’t measure my right foot, but measured the angle of the left. I’m now at a 0. Awesome dude! I increased my flexibility by 33% of what it needs to be. I improved so much in a week and a half. YAY!!

Apparently this was not cause for celebration. In fact, it was time to be brutally honest and burst my bubble. “0 isn’t good. It’s still really really terrible. I can’t believe that you’re only at a 0.” Oh and while she was saying this, she was kinda laughing at me. She also raised her voice a little as she told me that I wasn’t making progress and was going to have to increase my stretching to 8 or more times per day if I ever wanted to get better.

Alright: 1. FUCK YOU. 2. Don’t rain on my parade. I made an improvement. This is a small victory for me, so let me relish it for half a minute before you berate me, my efforts, and my damaged foot. 3. Obviously you know know nothing about motivation, because this would have been the perfect time to say something along the lines of “well +5 is a great start. Now if you keep doing your stretches, maybe increasing them to 8 per day, you’ll speed up your rehab and be pain free sooner. Keep up the good work.” But no, she laughed at me and minimized what I considered a gain. Oh and then she beat the shit out of my calf. I almost started crying. The only bonus to having her as opposed to the other lady was that she was SUPER nice to Marla and Marla genuinely feels OK right now. Also, she taped my arch for extra support, and showed me how I can do this on my own.

I’m definitely ready for an ice pack on my calf, but I’m going to do 8 sets of stretches today. We’ll see how that goes. Torture resumes on Thursday