Great Expectations

I was so excited to get Betty Boot. I imagined myself rising from the ashes of the surgical shoe like a phoenix with better arch support.

Instead, it hurts. It is bulky, awkward, and somehow manages to press on every part of my foot except the parts that can handle pressure.

And then came the stairs.

I attempted my descent with the courage of a woman who believed she was entering a new era. Instead, I fell. Not a heroic tumble. Not even a gasp‑worthy moment. Just a sad, quiet plop that echoed through the hallway like a Greek chorus whispering, “Fool.”

This was supposed to be the turning point. The breakthrough. The moment the clouds parted and recovery finally felt like progress.

Instead, it was a reminder that healing is a long, dramatic saga filled with plot twists, betrayal, and the occasional staircase ambush.

Still, I am moving forward. Not gracefully. Not comfortably. But forward, dragging Betty Boot behind me like the world’s most dramatic sidekick.