“Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.” Abraham Lincoln

It's time for another update to my blog. Mainly because I can't stand to watch another daytime TV show!

Honestly, how much daytime TV can one watch? Ugh. I never realized how many bizarre shows there are in the day. Like, "They Didn't Know They Were Pregnant" or "My Strange Addiction". Really weird stuff. One lady eats toilet paper (must be 2-ply) another eats couch cushions. I mean, eating dirt and wall plaster is understandable, but these people are just WEIRD! Although, I must say, that after having to depend on people to bring food down to me in the basement, the tulips Sister Vassar sent me are starting to look edible!

I know you've all been holding your collective breath waiting to hear what happened with my foot after getting home from camp. To make a very long story short, the pain in my ___________(fill in the blank with your choice of dorsal, crown, frederick, pinnacle, summit, superior, etc.!) didn't go away. I consulted a chiropractor. The ultrasound wand treatment that normally feels so good hurt like heck. I consulted a foot doctor. He said he didn't need an x-ray to know it was a bone spur, ordered me really expensive inserts that he assured me our insurance would cover--it didn't--and THEY hurt like heck to wear. FINALLY, I was able to get into the Orthopedic Surgery Specialists.

The Dr. there took an x-ray, thought he saw something but couldn't be sure, so he ordered an MRI, which ended up costing us $1000 out of our own pocket, which hurt way more than my foot did!

The MRI revealed a ganglion cyst in the joint of some bones on my ______________. My options for treatment were cortisone shots to shrink and maybe even pop the cyst, or surgery to fuse the joint in my foot together. UGH. I opted for the cortisone shot.

I must interrupt here to say that when my husband heard it was a ganglion cyst, he told me that his mom once had one in her wrist. The doctor took a really heavy book and smashed it down on her wrist, the cyst popped and that was it. That is really how they used to treat them, thus earning ganglion cysts the nickname of "Bible Bumps." So naturally, I took my large print Bible to my next doctor's visit and asked him to hit my foot really hard with it. He declined. I should have been more missionary minded and taken my Book of Mormon.

The cortisone shots would help for awhile but the pain always ended up coming back. Until that fateful day two years later at YW CAMP in Brookings where my foot took a turn for the worse. Needless to say, CAMP and I don't get along very well and that is a story for my next blog.

And now, it is time to announce the winner of my "name for the top-of-the-foot" contest. I have to say that it was really hard to pick just one winner. The entries were all so clever and witty. They made me laugh! But one suggestion really stood out from all of the rest. It was sent in by a reader named Susan who simply suggested calling it the "bridge" of the foot. Yeah. I like that. So, congratulations Susan, you are a winner! Susan, you will receive a visit from Alice who will personally sing you her hit single, "Rick, the Tick."

Muah, ha, ha, hah! I- AM -SLOWLY- GOING- CRAZY- IN- THE- BASEMENT!!!!!!!!!!!

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. Patrick Henry

Ok, since I can't go anywhere (even up the stairs), except back and forth with my walker from my sturdy arm chair to the computer chair to the bathroom, I decided now would be the perfect time to start a BLOG and my foot surgery would be the perfect subject to blog about. (I heard that groan Forrest!)

So..........where to start? Let's start at the very beginning.......a very good place to start. (Yeah, me and Julie Andrews are tight like that. We have a lot in common, not the least thing being that we are both practically perfect in every way!) CHEEKY!

It was a bright and sunny day 4 years ago at Itasca State Park in central (I think) Minnesota. I was at a church young women camp where my friend, Coralea, and I were chaperones. We were on a lovely (NOT) 5 mile hike with all the 2nd year campers. The only problem was, everyone else on the hike had disappeared into the dense woods except for us four: Me, Coralea, my daughter Kristin, and a sweet young woman from Grand Forks. We were following a little xeroxed map of woodsy trails that some mathematically challenged young women had figured out added up to five miles. It soon became apparent that we were lost. Like really lost. Not a human soul in sight. Just Mother Earth, Father Sky and a zillion pesky TICKS! (This was the infamous hike from which my original rap song, "Rick, the Tick" was born. But......I digress.) What could we do but pray and keep walking? I was seriously scared that we would never see civilization again. Anyway, about halfway through our journey in the haunted forest, I was seized by a sharp stabbing pain on the top of my foot.

Which makes me wonder.........how come there isn't a name for the top of the foot? We have the heel, the ankle, the ball, the toes, but there is not a word for the top of the foot, thus making me type 4 words--top-of-the-foot- when one good word could suffice, if there was one. So I am now announcing that I am having a contest for all the readers of my blog, to come up with a good name for the top- of- the- foot. The winner of the contest will receive an original copy of my hit rap song, "Rick, the Tick."

Anyway, that day 4 years ago, when a sharp stabbing pain seized my foot, was what ultimately led to my recent foot surgery, which ultimately led to me being confined to the basement with Maggie (by the way, we now smell the same since so far I have only been able to take sponge baths) which ultimately led me to the brink of insanity due to sheer boredom, which ultimately led me to write this blog.

In the next installment, you will accompany me on my journey of discovery as I seek answers for the sharp stabbing pain on the top-of-my-foot. Betcha cant' wait!

Oh, in case you were wondering, we finally found our way to the road after about 4 HOURS in pergatory. The sad part was, no one even knew we were missing! After I got home, I perused my little xeroxed map and added up all the miles and figured out that our 5 mile hike was really 9.2 MILES! And what happened to everyone else that was supposed to be on the hike with us? They had turned around and gone back way back there at the beginning. GRRRRRRR! There's gotta be a special place in heaven for adult women who go to girls camp. Even winning the revered and sacred "Most Spirited Camper" urn of ashes two years later was little consolation.

Don't forget to enter the contest all you creative word girls!