Oiling the Hinges

Well, one of the bolts is out, but the rest are still in and I feel like a rusty old car
that needs more than its hinges oiled! Was it my expectations that now would be
a case of 'gliding along'? Could be, or just not being very well informed as what to expect. To say the least, it felt like a major set back, I found myself once again
in tears, I wasn't expecting it to be so hard another time over.

Now I had to wait again, this time till the stitches would be removed, which was to
be in exactly two weeks, I was holding the surgeon to his word that I would be able to travel back to China immediately after that. Nevertheless, I was playing it
cautious, still exercising and going out for daily walks, sorting out the house so that it would be free of any unnecessary items and even saying fond farewells.

In truth I didn't buy my ticket till a week before and as for shopping, I kept putting
off the dreaded day till the last moment. I love to shop, but not for myself and
my body now having changed shape again, it was with trepidation that I was to
embark on this adventure yet again. I have a very bad habit of buying something,
either for the day that I may be able to get into it, because I have seen it at a
bargain price, or have illusions that it may fit sometime; or worse still, buy something that does fit well, but bury it in the closet for fear that when I will look
better, someone will only remember me in my enlarged state wearing that outfit and not notice it now looking better!

The next more pressing predicament was to be the one of shoes. I was always
a shoe mad 'shopper' and in my younger years, my wardrobe would be full of an
array of many styles and of course colors, but due to my 'foot abuse' had totally
ruined my feet and now had to settle for almost flat ties of a more subdued shade
just happy that they could encase my feet. Nevertheless, I have had many an
incident with shoes over the years many a story to tell. On one memorable New Year, I was given permission to go out and buy a new pair of shoes on my own, these were to be worn to worship in the synagogue and my mother entrusted me
with the monies and sent me on my way. This was an unusual event and I was
happy to make the most of this opportunity.

I was 16 years old and of course the uppermost thought in my mind, was to impress. Being part of a youth group that met weekly, I was determined to make my entrance. After some heavy traipsing around the stores, I finally settled on a
nave blue pair of high heeled shoes, that in the shop felt non too high or uncomfortable. But, as you can well imagine, after walking the required distance
of half an hour each way in the morning, then standing for prayers and then going
out in the afternoon, I was by this time not only unable to put one foot in front of the other, but let alone stand!! My friends, willing and able aides, held me up on
either side, allowing me to lean heavily upon their person, as I stumbled over each step, but as soon as a relative would come in sight, I would hold myself up
carefully and proudly, ensuring that no wince passed my lips, for fear that this misadventure would reach the ears of my mother, who would berate me for sure!

To this day, as I am now safely and sturdily encased in heavy Velcro footwear, all
signs of beauty on my feet forgotten, I can only but smile at my vanity then, for today just being able to work, even with a cane, will be a small price to pay after my fall. So, there I was in the centre of town, searching desperately for a shoe,
luckily to remember a small outpost that was able to furnish me, comfortably and
helpfully with my quest. Now, a last few bits and bobs, a last hospital trip and I
would be on my way. But was I doing the right thing, that was now the question
that was playing heavily on my mind??