My left foot

If you saw the title of this post and were hoping for a nice, insightful piece about the Daniel Day Lewis movie of the same name, I'm sorry to disappoint you. But if you've been following this blog for any amount of time, you already know that disappointment rides shotgun.

Yesterday I posted about my eyes, today it's about my foot. Who knows what body part it'll be tomorrow, although this is a family blog so don't get your hopes up.

For the last few days I've had a stabbing pain in the bottom of my left heel. Last night it was unbearable, and I couldn't even make the short walk from the bedroom to the refrigerator, a well-worn path I usually traverse several times a night (WIFE: "Where'd all the leftover ham, caramel swirl ice cream and chocolate Easter eggs go?" ME: "Don't look at me, I was asleep.")

I made a call and managed to get into see my podiatrist this morning. After he took a look at the x-ray you see here, he said two things. First, if you look just below my heel, there's a small shadowy area where the beginning of a bone spur is forming. I asked if I could put that on my resume, but he didn't think it was funny either. The other thing he said was I had Plantar Fasciitis, a tightening of the thin ligament connecting the heel to the toes and forming the arch of my foot.

I figured. I'd had it once before years ago in my right foot. That time, he prescribed stretching, a little physical therapy and some more stretching. After a couple weeks when none of that worked, he gave me a shot of cortisone in the foot and poof! - it was all better the next day.

Cortisone is a synthetic version of a powerful steroid the body produces naturally. But the catch is you can only have two or three shots a year, otherwise it's no bueno and can actually do damage.

Anyway, today, he paused thoughtfully for a second and said, "You know, we went through all that stuff last time. Let's just go straight to a shot of cortisone and knock this out." Exactly what I was hoping he'd say.

First a shot of novocaine, then the cortisone. That was this morning. Tonight, my heel is virtually pain-free, the Riverdance audition is back on and the refrigerator is waiting.

When it comes to complaining, I don't do a lot of it. No one wants to hear it, and it doesn't make the problem any better. But here's the thing: having the double whammy of being Jewish and an only child, I've honed my skills for complaining about my aches and pains better than most.

Truth is, I can go toe to toe with the best of them.

Back story

This isn't the first post I've written about my aching back. I wrote this one last time it went out on me this bad.

Well, it's happened again and I don't know why. God knows I haven't been doing any physical labor (the only thing Jews know how to lift is the Yellow Pages). But for almost a month now, I've been in excruciating pain when I make certain movements.

Like standing. Or walking. Lying down. And sitting.

Not a good situation anytime, but especially bad since I've been freelancing for a month. It involves a lot of chair time, and twisting around to talk to people. Which is fine, except for the Game Of Thrones sword that pierces my back every time I make a move in that chair.

I've always been one to try to ride things like this out, but about a week ago I came to the pain-ridden decision that enough was enough. The ride was over.

I've now been to my chiropractor five times in the last eight days. Each time I go, they do a whole bunch of stuff to me: cold laser therapy, massage, some device that sounds like a jack-hammer to break up adhesions. There may also be ritual dancing and war paint involved, but I'm face down on the table so I can't say for sure.

Anyway,I usually feel a little better when I leave, but it's a one-step-up-two-step-back situation. By the time I get home, it starts to hurt again. I have two gel ice packs like the one you see here, and I alternate them so my lower back is constantly frozen.

The cautiously optimistic news is my back was a lot less swollen tonight, and it actually feels better than it has for awhile. So I'll stay the course as long as it keeps improving, and hope that soon it'll be back to normal.

By the way, Back To Normal was my second choice for the title of this post.

Have a nice trip. See you next fall.

Yesterday I did something I haven't done in a very long time. And no, it wasn't write copy someone wanted to read. You're so predictable.

What I did was fall flat on my ass.

It was bound to happen. With two kids, two dogs and all the equipment that comes with them, it's no wonder the house is a virtual minefield most of the time. I would've said obstacle course, but obstacles can be overcome. In a minefield, you always have to be in a state of high alert.

Anyway, we have two extremely comfortable chairs in the living room. Right now they're covered in the powder blue slipcovers. Those are the ones we have on them when we're not using the floral ones. Clearly I lost the slipcover battle, which explains why we don't have the Elvis in Hawaii slipcovers. Or the ones with the cowboys and fire engines.

I might be getting off topic here.

Anyway, I was sitting in one of our comfy living room chairs, working on my laptop doing extensive, in-depth research into the topic of my next blogpost: Survivability Tactics & Probabilities and the Implications Of The Thermonuclear Threat.

That or I was watching Between Two Ferns. I can't remember.

At any rate, I got up to do something, and as I did I was closing my laptop and not looking down. Which was bad news for me, because there was a musical instrument in its case on the floor in front of me. My foot caught it, I lost my balance and went careening off a low bookshelf into a wall, involuntarily pirouetting like Baryshnikov and falling like a redwood all while trying desperately not to drop the laptop.

Unfortunately, not having my hands available to help right the ship, I went down like a ton of bricks. Fortunately I had a hardwood floor to cushion my fall.

The good news is I managed to stop the laptop from crashing to the floor. I was also able to hold my neck in such a way that my head didn't slam against the floor. The bad news is I'm feeling it this morning. I'm sore, scraped and bruised (which also happens to be the name of my law firm).

Having kids - well, teenagers - in the house, one thing I always notice is how resilient they are. They heal fast from almost everything: colds, injuries, hurt feelings, bad parenting. I however do not heal that fast. I fully anticipate hurting for a couple weeks while my body figures out what the hell I was thinking trying to get out of a chair.

So for the next few days, it's going to be ice packs, heating pads and Neosporin. And as long as I don't look to far to the right, my neck doesn't remind me how sore it is.

I've heard a rumor that, in some homes, there are actually dedicated spaces where you can store your belongings so they're out of the way and don't pose a risk to people walking in the house. But I'm not falling for it.

Close to home

I'd much prefer this were one of my usual sarcastic, snarky posts with a snappy end line. We'd all have a good laugh, then get on with our day.

Sadly, not this time out.

Last week, a school friend of my son's committed suicide. He was only four months older. They were in a rock band together for awhile.

This young man had been somewhat of an outsider. He wound up leaving my son's school and going to a performing arts school three and a half years ago for various reasons, one of which is he was an extremely talented musician. Everyone at school, his bandmates as well as several professional musicians respected and envied what he could do on the guitar. His guitar teacher called him the next Jimmi Page or Joe Satriani.

It was a road filled with promise and wide open to him.

When we got the call and told our kids, they were both understandably in shock, as were we. My son said it's the first person he's known who's ever killed himself. I hope he never knows any others. He asked me if I've ever known anyone who's taken their own life. I've known two - a creative director and an actress. But I only knew them in passing, and would never say I was close to them (which of course doesn't make it any less tragic).

My wife and son went to the funeral last week. And while this is the part where normally I'd crack wise about putting the fun back in funeral, there's nothing funny about it. According to my boy, it was extraordinarily sad. Both the funeral and the reception were uncomfortably silent. You couldn't mention what had happened, and you couldn't not, so no one said anything. It was a silence you could feel.

I can only imagine that in the aftermath his parents pain is more than anyone should have to bear. The details don't matter. What's important is a talented young man, who's life had barely gotten started, was in so much pain he thought taking his own life was the only way to make it stop.

I don't have any wisdom or insight here. All I have are the truisms we all recite by rote and take for granted, until something like this happens.

Pay attention. Watch for signs. Love and hug your kids. Let them know the lines of communication are open whenever they want to talk. Make sure they understand no subject is off the table.

And let them know as unfair as it is, they'll have to live with the fact that sometimes there's no answer for why.

Cruising the root canal

I went to the dentist today.

I try to keep my visits down to the twice a year cleanings, and not just because of the usual reasons. So happens my dentist is in Santa Monica, which works out to a 60-mile round trip. Yes they have dentists in Long Beach, but mine is not only the world's best dentist, the practice happens to be owned by my very good friend's uncle.

And in dentistry, like Hollywood, it's who you know.

Anyway, the reason for the visit, or so I thought, was to get a filling for a cavity. Wasn't too happy about it. I've been a member of the No Cavity Club for a long time, and as of today I had to surrender my membership.

Turns out I had more than a cavity to be unhappy about.

The cavity was fairly close to the gum line (queasy yet?), and once my dentist started drilling, he decided he better stop and take an x-ray to see how far down the decay was. It was far enough to need a root canal.

I'm not new to the root canal circuit. I've had two before, plus crowns, both in the back bottom teeth. My first thought was "Gosh, another root canal. I'm so glad we're doing this! He'll save the tooth and it'll be better than ever!"

No it wasn't. My first thought was "Crap, the last time this cost $2500 a tooth."

Until I'd had my first root canal - and you never forget your first - I was terrified of them. I imagined incredible pain, swollen chipmunk cheeks, sleepless nights and soup through a straw for days. Come to find out root canal technology has advanced along with everything else. It really was no worse than getting a filling.

The only thing that hurt afterwards was my wallet.

P.S. If I could've embedded the Bill Murray root canal clip from Little Shop Of Horrors I would've. Does that answer your question?