Last week, my podiatrist told me: Give it one more week to all the wound to develop another layer or two of skin, and you can start your long walks again. This was great news! I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. (This is a lie, but Joyce is booked.)
This morning, as I change my foot dressing, I'm planning the re-start of my exercise regime. It's too cold to walk outside after work, so I'll go the Palisades Center Mall; it's a paean to unattractive consumer over-consumption, but it provides a nice heated space for walks. Maybe I'll take in a movie afterward...
Then I look closely at my foot. I see a new opening in the skin, caused by the edge of the callus that forms due to the dressing.
There's no bleeding, no signs of infection, no other danger signs. I know how to bandage and dress it. But I have to give it a chance to heal. After one foot ulcer kept me "off my feet" for four months, I can't risk another. I could make a special appointment with my podiatrist, but I know what he'd say: no exercising until this new wound heals.
Crap. Crap crap crapity crap.
This evening, I was feeling sorry for myself. So I decided to counter-act the negativity by indulging in a little ego-boost: I counted the number of books I'd donated to BooksForSoldiers.
The tally came to 161. I'm about 3/4ths of the way done with sorting and packing the books; the final number will easily go over 200.
Wow. Not bad. I felt I hadn't completely wasted the extra time I had from not exercising.
A little thing, to be sure, but we have to get our feel-good moments from something.