The New Orleans Gimp

This morning I woke up early so I could go on a walk here in New Orleans. Sweatpants…check! T-shirt…check! Tennis shoes…dangit. I forgot tennis shoes. Which left me with 2 options: wear the black dress shoes or skip the walk.

I couldn’t NOT go walking. I was already up and the little Louisanna birds were chirping my name! Slipping barefoot into my black dress shoes, I left on my walk. The first 3 blocks were great – well, except for the staredowns I was getting. What? Can’t a girl where fancy shoes with her dirty sweats on a powerwalk? Block 4 I noticed my right heel was starting to feel a little tender, but I pushed through it. Block 5 my limp kicked in. Block 6 I had to turn around. I limped halfway back until the limp turned into a bloody dragging of the foot. I was shutting down…fast. That’s not the worst of it. My right leg is my “Good Leg”. You see, my left ankle is no ankle at all. It’s a CANKLE. A Cankle is when the ankle looks like an extension of the calf. Its been injured for several years making my life difficult, so I’ve really come to depend on my right leg to lead the way. Until today.

So there I was, with a left Cankle and a right Bloody, Blistered Heel. As I crawled up the steps to my 2nd floor hotel room and threw my body onto the bed after my walk, there was only 2 words that came to mind. Uff. Da.

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