Sunday mornings after worship we meet for coffee and chat. Three weeks ago I saw a lady who had been ill and out of action. I asked her about her illness in that general way that avoids too much prying yet expresses some compassion. If you know what I mean! She explained that she had been hit by severe plantar fasciitis in her feet. I asked her to repeat the diagnosis. It was the first time I'd heard it. She explained that the pain was so acute it made walking excruciating, though she has a dog so that forced her to take some steps daily however badly she felt. I sympathized and hoped it would improve.
Strangely, even as I was talking to her I was also suffering pain in my left foot. Somehow I had bruised my heel and sole. Seeing a pharmacist (as recommended by our under pressure NHS) I was recommended a tube of lotion which, after a week, had made no difference. Consulting another pharmacist I received exactly the same advice. After a further week it seemed to be getting worse.
So, on the Monday after I had my coffee conversation I emailed my surgery, explaining the problem. The doctor phoned me back and said the symptoms clearly led to one diagnosis: Plantar Fasciitis. He sent me details of exercises for the next 12 weeks. The model who poses these exercises is lithe and slim. For her it's effortless, rising upon a step before touching her heels to the ground. The rigor increases with a haversack full of heavy weights necessary after two weeks which is further increased in weights after six weeks.
I know my blog is odd. Spiritual thoughts jostle alongside unpleasantness. Which of course they always do. I am still seeking to be an Easter person as I grind out the exercises. It's too early to detect much relief but my sympathy for that poor lady at church is heartfelt.