An Infamous Man Strolls Along

Will My Foot Pain End My Daily Walking Streak?

“Richard!” A familiar voice called out just as I was about to step into the narrow alleyway between Sofia Color Lounge and the soon-to-open coffee shop where Beadsmith once stood. I turned around, and there he was—Eric! A smile broke across my face as I recognized him. He was pushing a stroller, with his daughter peeking out with curious eyes. Family surrounded him, including his pregnant wife and in-laws, creating a vibrant scene full of laughter and warmth. It was a moment of unexpected joy and connection amid my foot pain, a reminder of the beautiful bonds we share in our community.

If my feet hadn’t been hurting, I wouldn’t have met Eric’s wife and in-laws because I would have already been home. The pain in my left foot felt like a rail spike had been driven into it, causing me to walk slower than my two grandsons, who are three and one years old. For the third consecutive day, my left foot felt as if it belonged to someone else. This pain, a constant companion, had started to affect my daily routine, making even simple tasks like walking a daunting challenge.

“Eric told us about you,” his mother-in-law said. You are infamous.” My smile began to fade until Eric’s wife clarified, “Eric has said many great things about you, much better than being infamous.” I chuckled and congratulated her on the imminent arrival of their second child. As they continued on their way home, I wished them blessings of joy and happiness.

Hobbling home through the alley that led to the parking lot, I started to wonder how much longer I would be able to walk and interact with my neighbors. My world felt like it was shrinking around me, reminiscent of the days after 9/11 when airplanes were grounded.

After a quick self-assessment, aided by DuckDuckGo, I self-diagnosed as having plantar fasciitis. My wife had experienced a similar episode a decade ago, and I remembered both the pain she had suffered and that she had improved. Was this yet another delayed gift from her? I asked myself whimsically.

Being a holiday weekend, I drafted an email to my primary care physician, Dr. Gomathy Subramanian, through the patient portal. “Since I’m not qualified to make a definitive diagnosis, I’m reaching out for your guidance. Should I schedule an appointment with you, or would you recommend seeing a specialist? I have a physical therapist in my building whom I have used previously. Could they be part of the treatment plan?”

Confident in my self-diagnosis, I, like many men throughout history, opted to treat myself. I visited Walgreens and bought a pair of support socks and a shoe insert to alleviate my discomfort. Though the socks were the most expensive I had ever purchased, they significantly improved my ability to walk pain-free around the house. I also made sure to research and follow a regimen of foot exercises and stretches I found online, believing in the power of self-care and proactive management.

I tested the inserts by taking a quick walk around the block, and they brought my pace back to nearly normal without any pain. I also found relief by soaking my feet in Epsom salts and doing a few stretches I found online. The relief I experienced was a powerful testament to the effectiveness of self-care and proactive management, instilling a sense of control and relief in me.

However, on Monday morning, my walking pace plummeted to an all-time low of 1.7 miles per hour, and I could only manage a two-mile walk before retreating home, pain and fear setting in. I received a message through the portal of Summit Internal Medicine from Dr. Gomathy Subramanian. She recommended that I see a podiatrist. I called the first one, which fortunately accepted my insurance, but the earliest appointment was four days away.

After adding the appointment details to my calendar, my thoughts turned to a question I had been avoiding: Has my walking streak, a symbol of my resilience and crucial to my physical, emotional, and mental health, ended at 1,524 consecutive days? The uncertainty weighed heavily on me, casting a shadow over my usual optimism.