Knee Envy

It is 7:50 a.m. I wait for Hubby-dear in the foyer of a medical professional building. I sit in a wheel chair that magically appeared when we drove up.

I watch the people approach the automatic doors and walk in. So cavalier. Talking on the cell phone. Trusting their legs and feet.  Looking one way and walking in another direction. Texting. Eating their breakfast taquitos. Loaded down with their Vera Bradley lunch bags and other bags that I don't recognize.  Walking unaware. Skinny jeans with strappy summer sandals. Slip-on clogs. Neon color running shoes. Sensible shoes out of my reach.

I see the faces. They think about their agenda for the day. They think about the problems they left at home. They think about the bad news they heard on CNN.

None think about their knee.

None are awestruck with the engineering of three leg bones connecting behind a small saucer-shaped bone called the patella. None marvel at the design of movement and balance. None wonder over the strength of the joints to sustain the 175 pounds of human flesh. The bending of the leg is a wonder.

I have knee envy.

I Love My Shoe

Last night I left my shoe by the recliner in the den. I just woke up and  I must go from my bed to the bathroom barefoot. I am thinking about objects on the floor and focusing on not stubbing my toe. A tennis shoe on my one "good" foot adds stability.  Not that my other foot is "bad", it simply is no good for walking at the moment.

I have new admiration for my shoe. A closed shoe protects me from running into things. My entire weight is on one foot. If I stub my toe I don't have the other foot to compensate. A shoe has increased in value and importance in my life. The rubber sole helps me grip the floor and not slip. A shoe with  good arch support helps my foot hold all the extra weight it is now required to hold.  My crutches and my one shoe are my friends.

A shoe is no longer an accessory. I now view shoes  like my husband views his shoes, on the merits of functionality.