The Infamous Walker Limps Home

Will My Heel Pain Stop 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 saw—Eric! A genuine smile spread across my face as I recognized him. He was pushing a stroller, his daughter peeking out with bright, curious eyes.

His pregnant wife and in-laws gathered around him, creating a lively scene filled with laughter and warmth. It was a spontaneous moment of joy and connection, a beautiful reminder of the bonds we share in our community, even amid my foot pain. Their presence felt like a comforting balm to my aching heel, a testament to the healing power of human connection.

If my left foot hadn’t been hurting, I wouldn’t have met Eric’s wife and in-laws because I would have already been home. The throbbing pain felt as if a six-inch spike had been embedded in my heel, making me walk slower than my two grandsons, who are three and one years old. For the third day in a row, 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 to the store 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 upcoming arrival of their second daughter. “I am ready for the baby to arrive,” she said.

As they continued 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 could keep walking and talking with my neighbors. The emotional weight of this pain was heavy, making me feel like my world was shrinking around me, like the days after 9/11 when airplanes were grounded. Have my long, wandering walks come to an end?

After a quick self-assessment with the help of DuckDuckGo, I diagnosed myself with plantar fasciitis. This condition, which causes a stabbing pain near the heel, tends to be worse in the morning or after long periods of standing. My wife experienced a similar episode a decade ago, and I remembered both the pain she went through and her eventual improvement. Was this another delayed gift from her? I wondered whimsically. I read several articles and watched a few videos online to learn more about the condition, and the symptoms matched what I was experiencing.

As it was a holiday weekend, I drafted an email to my primary care physician, Dr. Gomathy Subramanian, through the patient portal. I carefully detailed my symptoms, the self-diagnosis I had made, and the steps I had taken to alleviate the pain. I also asked for her guidance on whether I should schedule an appointment with her or if she would recommend seeing a specialist. I mentioned the physical therapist in my building, whom I have used previously, and asked if they could be part of the treatment plan. I made sure to include all the necessary information for Dr. Subramanian to make an informed decision about my case.

Confident in my self-diagnosis, I, like many men throughout history—especially widows—chose to treat myself. I visited Walgreens and bought support socks and a shoe insert to relieve my discomfort. I based this decision on my wife’s experience with a similar condition and my research. Although the socks were the most expensive I had ever purchased, they significantly improved my ability to walk pain-free around the house. I also researched and followed a regimen of foot exercises and stretches I found online, believing in the power of self-care and proactive management.

Testing the inserts by taking a quick walk around the block, I felt a surge of relief as 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 discovered online. The relief I experienced was a powerful testament to the effectiveness of self-care and proactive management. It gave me a sense of control and reassurance, empowering me to take charge of my health and affirming that I was on the right track. The feeling of power and relief from self-care was like a beacon of hope amid my health challenges.

However, on Monday morning, my walking pace dropped to an all-time low of 1.7 miles per hour, and I could only manage a two-mile walk before returning home, pain and fear taking over. I received a message through the portal of Summit Internal Medicine from Dr. Gomathy Subramanian, who suggested 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, I began pondering a question I had been avoiding: Has my walking streak, a symbol of my resilience and vital for my physical, emotional, and mental health, ended at 1,524 days? The uncertainty weighed heavily on me, casting a shadow over my usual optimism.

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