This Pain is Not Permanent

I’m pushing courage here by sharing some of my story. I hope it ignites curiosity, questioning, and rethinking when discomfort shows up in your life. Our minds and bodies are intimately connected and I’m discovering that everything influences our adaptability.      

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That night as I was making the kid's lunches for school my right ankle started bothering me. I was standing in front of the kitchen counter chopping veggies and fruit.  I didn’t think much of it until I turned to walk toward the frig to put the lunches away. I took two steps, gasped in pain, and stopped. What the heck? I was surprised by the pain. I couldn’t put weight on my right foot and when I did I got tremendous pain in the front of my ankle and the bottom of my foot. 

I limped to the refrigerator, placed the kid's lunches inside then opened the freezer. Maybe an ice pack would help as my mind searched for what I did wrong. This pain came without any warning. I couldn’t remember twisting it on my run or any injury. I’ve been fine all day. What has changed? Everything! 

Oh, that’s right, Jeff has some unusual tumor growing in his duodenum. I’m angry, scared, sad, anxious, and wondering how I’ll tell Brindsley and Delaney if this is cancer. 

Okay, of course, I had pain—these emotions were flooding my nervous system and the harm alarm was going off.  I didn’t do anything to injure my ankle however that wasn’t required to feel pain. I just found out that my husband most likely had cancer, a huge threat, and my nervous system was aware and processing it all. I couldn’t explain why the output was ankle pain but it was. The weirdest part— I had this exact pain and symptoms before in 2011.  

It was a similar occurrence, the pain began without an injury that I was aware of. It just happened out of the blue. I walked into the grocery store and a few minutes later I found myself limping through each aisle. What the heck? I began to panic. Will I be able to make it up to the register? Will I be able to walk to my car?

I coached myself as I grabbed one more item before making my way up to the cashier. I was embarrassed by my limp and tried to hide the pain as I waited in line. I hobbled out happy to find my car not parked as far as normal. I couldn’t believe how much pain I was in. Do I have plantar fasciitis? I’m not going to be able to run tomorrow if this keeps up.

I was training for The New York City Marathon and was freaking out about missing any time in my training. I needed to run. I was not going to let this pain get the best of me. I was just turning a corner in my pain recovery and now this? I was so frustrated because I couldn’t figure out what I did wrong. Is it from running? Is it from all the strengthening I’m doing?

What else was going on at the time? This was one question I didn’t bother to ask in my angst. However, a lot was going on and I didn’t consider the other factors that can contribute to pain.

I wasn’t happy with my job. I was taking courses at night to consider starting my physical therapy practice. Jeff was opening a new building for his practice and there was talk that I would go over there but nothing was happening. I wasn’t talking to my mom as she was going through a divorce with my dad. Pain is weird. Yet it had something to tell me. I had something more to learn.

This memory reassured me. This discomfort is temporary. Don’t forget what you know about pain, Julie. I reached in for the ice pack and hobbled to Brindsley’s bedroom. It was my turn to put him to bed. I was happy I would be able to get off my feet and ice while I read to him. Brindsley was already reading to himself when I came limping in.

He looked up, “What happened, mom.”

“Oh, I’m having some discomfort in my ankle. I’ll be okay.”

I sat at the edge of his bed to see if I could move my ankle up and down but was met with tremendous pain. “Ouch,” I whispered. I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. It hurt to move in any direction. I found it comical that just 30 minutes ago I was walking around with no problem now I could hardly move. Is this crazy or what?

I placed the ice pack on the front of my ankle and began to read to Brindsley. I don’t recall what book we were reading, I wish I did, but I remember laughing and smiling. My ankle pain softened. I took off the ice and was now able to move it a little bit up and down, better than before. 

I continued to read as I moved my ankle in the directions I could tolerate. The reading and the company were a great distraction from the events that took place earlier. Movement will help. Laughter will help. What I say to myself matters— this is temporary, see you can move your ankle with less discomfort. This pain is not permanent.

Stay tuned next month for the continuation of the story…

Lean In

I confront the hill

Lean in

Legs and arms obey

Dynamic body and mind

I flow on the road

And grin. 

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Take good care,

Julie

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Author of: Staring Down a Dream: A Mom, a Marathoner, a Mission/ My Road: A Runner’s Journey Through Persistent Pain to Healing 

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