That’s what I’ve done for the last 13 years. I’ve taken it step by step, always keenly, and often painfully aware of every single step. The left foot is always ready to go; the right one, well, not-so-much. It’s a bit like a recalcitrant child; it would stomp its own foot in protest if it could.
The right foot has “dystonia” for lack of a better name. It gets cranky, it scrunches itself all up into knots and is reluctant to go forward. It has a “movement disorder.”
It has visited a broad variety of healthcare professionals. Here are some, in alphabetical order:
Acupuncturists, chiropractors, holistic doctors, internists, massage therapists, neurologists, neurosurgeons, OB Gyns (hey, any port in a storm), orthopedists, orthopedic surgeons, podiatrists, psychologists, psychiatrists, physical therapists, radiologists and sports doctors.
It has been prescribed more medicines than anyone could possibly remember.
It has had botox treatments, MRI’s, bone scans, EMG’s, Xrays, blood tests.
The prognoses, diagnoses and the treatments have been myriad and, ultimately, all wrong.
This, unfortunately, is the story shared by most, if not all, who have been diagnosed with dystonia.
Now the foot has the opportunity to embark on a new journey. A journey outside the norm. At worst, it will simply be venture of note. At best, I can unbox all those cute shoes I’ve held onto for thirteen years and take a long, long walk with the Mister.