Monday, July 20, 2009

My Left Foot- a funny story

As a dancer my feet are of obvious importance to me and I do my best to protect them. I only wear heels for certain occasions and only wear really high heels if I'll be mostly sitting. And, although I am a professional bellydancer I hardly ever dance barefoot. In spite of my attempts at protecting my feet through the years it has become clear to me that my left foot is doomed. And yes, it is only the left foot. While the right foot remains pretty much unscathed, my left foot has suffered repeated injuries due to incredibly unlikely accidents, the latest of which occurred last weekend.

In order to understand the strangeness of this you have to know the history. About 7 years ago I was cooking and dropped a large glass mixing bowl right on my left big toe. It was unbelievably painful and took many months to heal but what I didn't realize was this was the start of my left foot's stroke of bad luck. A few years (and toenails) after the mixing bowl incident I started getting an artificial nail put on my left big toe because it never looked the same and I wanted to wear cute sandals. One day I was at a summer party sporting my cute sandals and fake toenail when out of nowhere some overly exuberant husky girl with mammoth sneakers rudely pushed past me and trampled on my left foot smashing the big toe. That was actually a really bad freak accident which resulted in my entire nail bed and the surrounding skin being lifted off the toe. I had an emergency in-office surgery at my podiatrists office the following Monday. A year later I developed a bone spurs on that toe due to repeated trauma. And then there’s the everyday stuff. If an object falls from the dresser it falls on my left foot. If I accidentally stub a toe it’s on my left foot. My cat scurries past me and scratches my left foot. I guess I may be sensitive to it at this point but it is really strange. I have even asked myself is it possible for one body part to have bad Karma?

I hate the fact that I never dance barefoot because it takes away from the authenticity of the dance but I have become very protective of my feet. I have been privileged to have danced with some of the greatest dancers in our area and many of them never wear shoes and no harm seems to come to them. I have watched countless times as my sister dancers dress into their thousand dollar couture costumes while standing barefoot on a bathroom, closet or basement floor while the germophobe in me quivers to hold back from yelling out “No! It’s not safe!” Meanwhile I hop around taking special care to change into my costume in a way that neither bare foot comes within a meter of the floor. I want so badly to be faithful to my art form, shun the shoes and be a real gypsy bellydancer.

So every now and then I try to do something truly crazy and last weekend at a private event I made a spur of the moment decision to dance barefoot. The event was held in a hotel meeting room, which was carpeted and seemed fairly clean. The hostess of the event showed me to the bathroom to change. I decided I'd take my shoes off last to minimize contact time with the germs. After everything was tucked in, pinned and hooked I took off my shoes, packed everything safely in my suitcase and walked out of the bathroom feeling proud that I was not worried about my feet touching the floor. Just like a real diehard gypsy bellydancer.

As the door was opened for me and I was introduced to the crowd I struck my start pose and began working the music. Then without warning a sharp pain shot from the bottom of my left foot that could be described as the sting of a large hornet. Of course in the middle of a performance what could I do but pretend nothing was wrong? After a minute the adrenaline kicked in and I completely forgot about my left foot so I was able to give the crowd everything I had. I finished my set, exited the room and floated on a performance high toward the bathroom. Performance highs have a way of making you forget a lot of things. Yes, upon seeing the bathroom door the hesitation was there but I thought no not today. Today I'm a real gypsy and I'm not going to get OCD about the germs on the floor.

So I pressed though the bathroom door threw down my suitcase and began to change back into Melissa. Then, from behind me I heard "Maam...”. I looked down to see blood all over the nasty bathroom floor. I then recalled the pain in my left foot and quickly turned it over to reveal a gash, dark red blood steadily dripping from it. Seriously...just shoot me. A hot white sensation came over me upon realizing the bathroom floor germs were now ravaging my entire system and then I went to my happy place. Somehow I managed to change back into my party clothes and clean up the floor and pack up my suitcase without being able to put my foot down. I rode all the way home with my foot wrapped in brown paper towels. The bleeding stopped but the panic attack didn't. As my husband chatted with me about who knows what I was in a tunnel. All I could think about was water and soap and rubbing alcohol.

Thankfully, the cut turned out to be small and after bandaging it didn't even hurt anymore. I decided not to cancel plans with the girls to hand out flyers in downtown Akron for our upcoming show. I even decided to wear heels thinking if I was going to be handing out flyers for a dance show I should look hot. Another brilliant idea. These particular shoes were new and although they felt fine at first two hours later they were anything but. Obviously taking them off was not an option but the pain was so intense that I began to fantasize about crawling. We ended up hitching a ride with a stoner cabbie back to our car. In the morning I awoke to see the damage- five blisters and a raw sore on the top of my left foot in addition to the bandaged cut that occurred earlier. And the right foot? It was fine.

Go figure. I have no idea what is up with my left foot but one thing I've learned- it can always get worse. So I'm trying to be happy that I at least have a working foot although I can occasionally be heard joking about cutting it off.