Member-only story
The Strange Familiarity of Pain
I am used to being in pain.
For as long as I can remember, there’s always been a low-level of ache that rests around my bones, especially around my legs. Even back in elementary school, walking was . . . not difficult, but not easy. And not comfortable.
This continued through middle school and high school (where I had one PE teacher — who happened to be the varsity football coach — get angry at me for not running the mile. I had walked it, and received one of my best times, to boot. But he thought I wasn’t giving it my all) and well into adulthood. I have always looked forward to the end of the day, to taking my shoes and socks off of my aching feet, and resting.
I’ve gotten so used to that low-level of pain, that it’s really a marvel when I’m actually hurting. I am so used to being on my feet and powering through it. That’s my default stance. People expect me to keep going and to not complain, so that’s what I do.
But there are sometimes where that’s not an option. Today was one of those days.
It actually started yesterday, a pain in my ankle and in my foot whenever I stepped on it. One of the charming little quirks of my anatomy is that one of my legs — my right leg — is essentially useless. My left leg is what gets me around.
