Fear and Footwear
When I was in high school, I dated a boy we’ll call John here. We talked of our goals and our future and we also shared our fears. He admitted to me that he was afraid of getting old. I remember at the time, I thought it was strange to fear aging. I wanted to be older. With age came so many things I wanted: freedom, responsibility, control and that all wisdom.
Yesterday I was walking around the city on swollen feet and I almost cried. In a one block span, I passed an elderly man hobbling by on a walker, a woman with feet so fat and swollen that they couldn’t fit in her old people sneakers, and a hunchbacked man walking his old dog. I was immediately terrified that I’m going to be in pain and deformed forever.
My doc always tells me my joints look good. But it’s scary to think about loss of mobility and other physical abilities–when my grandmother finally passed she couldn’t hold anything in her hands. If it hurts to walk now, what will it be like in ten years? When I’m 40? What about 65?
I’m pretty comfort-conscious. But I never want to bound to those hideous puffy shoes because I have a disease. I don’t want to be making decisions based on physical limitations I might have. Then again, what else can you do?
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