I am sitting in my garden under our mimosa tree that is covered in pink pom-poms, with an almost equal amount strewn around the reaches of the tree’s shade. I wanted to work on the garden before my surgery, to put up a pergola that would give me some privacy so that I could feel more comfortable spending time in my backyard without feeling like I was on display to the neighbors. I know that I am fortunate to have this space, and I should just feel free to use my yard as I please, but I want to feel relaxed and that means reducing the feeling of being watched.

I don’t believe that my neighbors are sitting at their windows with a bowl of popcorn waiting to see what I am up to. Though I wouldn’t blame them as I have been moving the 10 to 20-foot long joists that used to support the back portion of our house that was originally built in 1909. Or the up to 15-foot spans of old hardwood flooring that I was hoping to reuse, only to acquiesce to the simplicity, timeliness, and inexpensiveness of buying a new laminate flooring. I have determined to use these materials in the backyard to keep them from winding up in the land fill.

Working on the backyard garden has been a welcome escape from the dreariness that is life online. With COVID waning in this part of the world, it would seem I should have less need to seek the insular respite of my own home, and yet, on the day that California seeks to “reopen” by lifting the bulk of social distancing restrictions, I am scheduled to have foot surgery to remove a bone spur that seems to have dislodged from my foot above the joint of my right big toe. While my foot is opened up, the surgeon plans to scrape away of some arthritic cartilage and poke a bunch of holes in it to generate the growth of a new form of cartilage during an out-patient procedure. My doctor tried allaying my fears about this part of the procedure my suggesting I might have heard of NBA players receiving this sort of treatment. I nodded to signify that I at least recognized the sport he referenced. My anxiety towards the procedure has waxed and waned, whereas the reality of the recovery time–six to eight weeks–has started to set in.

I have attempted to better understand what my recovery will look like, and in the process I have learned that recovery is highly variable across individuals. Some report a quick recovery without any complications, while others report months long journeys toward recovery with questions on whether their procedures were worth it given their continued pain.

A surgery like mine (cheilectomy) is not unique, but not common. I had originally thought I had a bunion, but thankfully, those concerns were allayed. While I am glad that the procedure I am slated to have is not as invasive as bunion surgery, at least there are a wealth of resources for those living with bunions and those who have opted to have their feet, or portions thereof, surgically realigned. If you live with bunions or had them remedied, I feel for you.

Several years ago I had informed my doctors of my foot pain, but it was minor and mostly I was concerned that my toe looked like it was developing a bunion. I hadn’t made an appointment for my foot pain specifically, on that visit I was in to see a doctor because I had a reoccurrence of shingles and volunteered this extra pain as something else to look at. But since that was a minor issue compared to the shingles, I was told to not worry about it. Actually, I was told it was a” baby bunion.” It almost sounded cute. Fast forward to a year ago, as the pandemic shelter in place regulations closed down so many social spaces for gathering, I looked forward to running in the neighborhood to provide that momentary escape from the anxiety that I had about the state of the world and my place in it. My runs were modest, one to two miles a day, on a good day, maybe four or five.

As I became more and more consistent with my running, I started upping my pace, from the very modest 12-minute miles to 10, 9 and even 8-minute miles. But each subsequent run I started getting more concerned about this “baby bunion.” It wasn’t until the shooting pain started that I finally decided to pull back from my runs and see a doctor.

A tele-medicine appointment sent me to get an x-ray of my feet, and then a standing x-ray revealed that I did not have a bunion at all, rather I had this bone spur, this floating fragment of bone, and arthritis.

We had moved back into our home at the end of October 2020, but only 2 of our four bedrooms were ready along with our kitchen and living room and bathrooms. However it would become apparent that materials shortages started to impact our work timeline, coupled with some construction defects that started to emerge, from a leaking roof, to leaking water fixtures.

The remedy called for an outpatient surgery that would have me off of my feet for 6-8 weeks. I had pushed the surgery back to December 2020 so that my recovery wouldn’t conflict with our moving back into our renovated home. In the back of my head, I have to admit I wasn’t so sure that the surgery would happen as planned as I saw the rising trend in COVID cases and wondered when non-elective surgery would be shut down to conserve resources to meet the growing emergency cases of COIVID. Sure enough, about a week before surgery, I got a call informing me that the rise in COVID cases had forced the shuttering of non-elective surgeries and now I would have to wait. I took the news in stride (pun intended) and focused my energies on getting our house set up.

As my new surgery date fast approaches, the house is still not done, but we are perhaps 95% of the way there. In the meantime I will have to content myself with the state of things as they are.

I am so fortunate to be in the position I am in, to have this home when so many lack housing, to have avoided getting sick when so many have died, including some of the people who had worked in the demolition phase on our house back in December of 2019, before most people had ever heard of a corona virus.

I am mentally preparing for staying off my feet for another two months. Hopeful that I will be up and walking before the start of the school year, and making peace with another summer spent at home, fortunate to have a home, and the prospect of future summers to be on my feet.