Update

The patient's pain threshold was breached, then stablized, thanks to muscle relaxers, NSAIDs, and hardcore painkillers. Xray confirms the area is inflamed due to repetitive stress and arthritis.

Combined with the arthritis in my knees, it's safe to wager my grandmere has healthier bones than me. Let this be a lesson to you parents and future parents: Don't let your babies grow up doing ballet. I mean it!

I remain in PA, in and out of spectacular drug-induced coma, and occasionally sporting the only orthopedic shoes I could find that didn't make me want to commit hari-kiri with a stiletto. Fortunately, they are not Nurse Ratchet White. They are fire engine red and look convincingly like a slip-on sneaker.

Woe is fucking me. Won't someone at Manolo Blahnik take pity on me and make a gorgeous orthopedic strappy high-heeled sandal? Maybe I'll convince the local children to hold a fundraiser so I can purchase those darling Tara Subkoff shoes from (gulp) Easy Spirit. One thing you will NEVER see broken old crippled Trouble wearing is anything remotely resembling a Jesus sandal. I may be bloated and puffy from overmedication; my hair may be a fright wig; my clothes may be all sweats all the time, but I'll be damned if my shoes will be ugly.

Oy, my aching bones. There's some oxycontin with my name on it softly calling from the bedroom. Check you later and for the love of 3" heels, be kind to your spine.