>I finally gave up the denial, admitted that my foot pain was getting worse and wasn’t going to go away, and visited our family doctor. She ordered an x-ray to make sure nothing was broken, but the symptoms and the location of the pain had pretty much given it away already. The x-ray, as suspected, showed nothing more than the tiny little screw from the bunion-fixer-upper seven years ago.
I see the podiatrist in ten days. The family doc predicts that I may be facing another surgery — the third on this foot.
Well, to look on the bright side, it’s my left foot. I can still drive. Both of our vehicles have automatic transmissions. Since Clutch + bad left foot = slow healing and more pain, the trade-in of my stick-shift Saturn SL2 was inevitable after my first surgery. Sniff. Sigh.
I hope that the foot doc will be able to handle this through less invasive means, but I won’t count on it. With my luck, she’ll want to operate sooner rather than later.
Hmmm…maybe I’ll need new shoes. Darn.

>It’s all in the perspective. I remember the phone call, I remember grieving, holding my family close to me. But most of all, I remember the seemingly never-ending highways under grey skies. Today’s skies remind me of that. I remember making a point of moving my sunglasses into Husband’s car before we left (we took his car because it got much better mileage than my minivan), and then not needing the sunglasses at all. We seemed frozen in time, driving along Wisconsin and Illinois’ highways with endless farms on either side, on that long, long ribbon of highway that matched the colorless sky, keeping our emotions at bay so that we could handle the ongoing miles upon miles. La Petite used her iPod adapter to play it through the car radio. Amigo listened to his own armband radio, finding local stations that interested him. I just listened to whatever they had coming through the speakers and gazed out upon the road before us.
This year, we’re safe at home. No one is sick or injured, none of us had surgery, no one has died. The skies are as grey as they were a year ago, but we’re tucked into our den watching bowl games instead of rolling south and west on the never-ending highways. We’re hanging together, enjoying each other, and appreciating all we have.
May the New Year bring all of us health, happiness, and security. Blue skies would be a nice bonus, too.

>One year ago the kids and I were hitting the road for a long, marathon drive. This wasn’t a holiday visit. It was a drive to a funeral — my father’s funeral. He’d been sick for a while, and we knew it was just a matter of time. In early November, the doctors had said it could be days, weeks, or months. He passed away right after Christmas.
The trip presented many challenges. Husband couldn’t come along. He’d been sick right after Christmas, and he was still working long extra hours to fill in for an injured co-worker. La Petite was recovering from getting her wisdom teeth out, so she was still in some pain and taking care of her sore mouth. My right wrist was in a splint from a soft-tissue injury that wasn’t healing well, and a long drive wasn’t going to help its condition.
Dad died Wednesday afternoon. Thursday morning we hit the road. We planned to get as far as we could, maybe St. Louis, and then find a hotel and proceed to our destination of Springfield, Missouri, the next morning.
Meals were a challenge. Amigo doesn’t like to eat in the car for fear of spilling or making a mess. La Petite had to eat slowly because she still couldn’t open her mouth all the way, and she had to rinse with salt water after each meal. These small details eliminated drive-through meals and extended the length of the trip overall. We were stopped in Milwaukee for lunch when my brother called to tell us that the funeral would be Friday morning at 10:15. This radically changed our plans; we had to make it to Springfield that night.
I couldn’t make the long drive any shorter, but I can make a long story short. La Petite and I shared driving shifts through Illinois and Missouri. Amigo learned to pump gas to help rest my sore wrist. We kept up with my brother by cell phone, since he was a few hours ahead of us, and he made the hotel reservations and gave us directions. We arrived in Springfield (Missouri, that is) close to 11:00 that night and collapsed into our room.
I was really proud of both kids. They really showed me their best. Amigo didn’t fuss about taking his turn in the back seat, even though he was the tallest one in the car. I put the kids in charge of answering the cell phone whenever I drove so I could concentrate on the road. Amigo was great about pumping gas, and La Petite helped navigate. We couldn’t save time on meals, but we managed to minimize our other stops by combining gas/snack/bathroom breaks into one. The trip was long and tiring, but we all managed. One year ago, despite the difficulties, we pulled ourselves together and made things happen.