Today was one of the most important days of my campaign to save my foot and allow me to walk normally again. And one of the most exhausting.

I’m getting a new Frankenstein kind of brace for my embattled left leg. It’s daunting to look at what will be holding my left foot into place in a few weeks. The body, I am told, often rebels for a while.

Of course, it does.

It was a significant and hopeful day for me but also one of the most grueling.

I have to be honest; this month has worn me down.  Three surgeries and a score of doctor’s appointments and tests.

This is a complicated process. But this is what makes good and difficult things happen.

I went to Saratoga early in the morning to get a brace for my food disorder. This is a lengthy process – to do this, the first step was to see a surgical podiatrist.

Then the doctor – Dr. Daly –  must send a request to a particular orthotics company detailing the medical issues, and the specialist – David Missiner –  sends her back a formal proposal.

I have to be examined everywhere along the way by everyone more than once. Dr. Daly is very much on board. She and David confer.

Then she has to write a prescription based on her examination and the orthodist’s examination and proposal. It goes to the insurance company, which pays for part of it; the co-pay falls on the patient.

Then, the patient has a casting session – today – in which the leg is wrapped in a unique cast frame.

The cast goes to a lavatory, David, the specialist, will make it himself over the next month or so. My only request to Dr. Daly was that David be the one who makes my brace rather than some large national company.

We had to wait until the issue with the toe was resolved; we spent a year trying to heal the wounds in the toe but couldn’t.

She agreed for David to make the cast.

David is impressive; he’s been making braces for amputees and people with severe foot issues for some years now; he is open, genial, and has a great sense of humor. We ended up laughing through have of the casting. I believe in laughter.

When I stop being able to laugh, I’ll be done.

All through this process, I have never stopped laughing with the people around me. I see life as both beautiful and strange and often ridiculous. I can’t thank my flowers enough for keeping me smiling. The country is in a grim mood, I’m a color and light freak.

As you can see – the cast is enormous,  roughly the size of the brace itself – this is a substantial piece of medical hardware, serious stuff. The amount will go well up my calf (gulp!) It will hold my feet in the right direction.

David believes this new brace will help me considerably, improving my mobility by 40 percent. I’m looking forward to that.

This will enable me to walk longer distances and more securely. The foot has been reworked from top to bottom. This process began more than a year ago. My first brace worked well and helped me considerably, but the big toe got in the way and couldn’t be contained; the ulcerated wounds would not heal as long as the toe was there.

So we decided to amputate the toe, a tough decision. That was also a significant interruption in the bracing process.

It was a good decision. Even without the second brace, walking is more accessible, less painful, and more comfortable. I very much enjoy working with David. I do feel that we have a very strong connection to one another.

He has coped with his own health issues. He understands what I am going through.

Maria says we are just bouncing things off of one another like brothers. I appreciate someone honest like he is, who speaks his mind and isn’t afraid of me.

The day continued, and I had to have X-rays and ultra-sound photos of my kidney to ensure the kidney stone was gone. Maria was with me all the way.

If the kidney stone remains, I must do it all again. I don’t relish that. Yesterday, I had similar tests taken for my bi-annual cardiology exam, which will occur in a couple of weeks—a regular check-up.

I am glad I’ve undertaken this, but I felt worn and hollowed out today. It’s as if all those just caught up with me simultaneously.

When I got home, I collapsed in a chair and fell asleep. I’m hoping to repeat that tonight. Tomorrow, Maria and I are headed out in the morning to search for fabrics for the many quilts she wants to make.

It’s a rainy and gray day here; I’ll take a day off from my flowers, something that always nourishes and uplifts me.

The next step in the foot project is Thursday, when I see Dr. Daly again, and she will take the stitches out of the wound from straightening the toe that got infected from being curled over. My left foot has been a mess for much of my life. I hope that this will change.

Hopefully, I can then return to normal shoes and showers.

David warms me that braces are not miracle-makers and will need careful monitoring and adjusting. He’s very optimistic about it, and he is both knowledgeable and experienced. I love hearing him talk about it. I trust him and Dr. Daly completely.

David and I share a similar sense of humor –  Maria also shares this with me – and the three of us kept telling stories and laughing between the casting. He’s got my number and makes hilarious fun of me.

So does Maria. Last night, she was trying to teach me some breathing exercises for staying grounded and started yelling at me for doing it wrong.

We both cracked up at this and couldn’t stop laughing. David is like that, and we were all laughing together by the time the casting was done.

It seems miraculous that I have these competent, warm, and dedicated people alongside of me in this work to turn some history around and have two good feet. It makes such a difference.

Other than Dr. Daly, I have no other doctor’s appointments all next week; I can get back to the Mansion and the refugees and continue the work of the Army Of Good. I’ve got to stay off of this foot for a few more days and keep the surgical boot on.

My garden bed is booming and calling out to me. I’ll visit for a while tomorrow.