Children have a way of keeping parents on their toes, or back on their heels. It is the unenviable job of grown-ups to ground kids in reality -- sometimes feet first.
For the next five weeks, our family's daily life will be wrapped around two fiberglass casts attached to the little legs of a 6-year-old. There are no broken bones. No torn tendons. Nor are these casts the result of an overenthusiastic pursuit of youthful indiscretion; otherwise known as "I told you not to climb that tree!"
Painful as it sounds this casting was by choice, not accident. One of those unfortunate decisions where you hate being the grown-up.
Seemingly since the day she took her first steps, our daughter has been on tiptoes. The medical term is idiopathic toe walking. Basically for reasons unrelated to scary sounding neurology, she is a habitual tippy-toer.
While there are worse habits -- chronic finger sweeps for nose goblins comes to mind -- the tiptoeing presents several medical concerns. Words like abnormal heal-toe gait, ankle dorsal flexion and a congenital short Achilles tendon tend to set off those hard-wired parental alarms in your head.
Clinical terms aside, there is also harsh reality to consider. While a 6-year-old on tippy-toes in a tutu is undeniably cute, a 26-year-old woman walking on her toes without three-inch dress heels may elicit unwelcome remarks.
Even after two months of physical therapy, no amount of elastic band tension could overcome the strong, ingrained tiptoe behavior. The decision was made to cast both legs below the knee -- a choice that was met with tears. She actually cried when we postponed the first casting for a week.
When the cast cutting saw -- best described as a Flowbee on steroids -- was wheeled out, however, the real tears flowed.
As expected, the prospect of weekly castings has proved challenging. Restless nights, itches you can't scratch, and a blister that required hours of cutting through medical red tape to get a cast removed. Then there are the awkward stares in the grocery store that follow your child's ungainly footsteps.
Of course we can check days off a calendar until life returns to "normal" unlike other families.
Still, there are days when you wonder if you're doing the right thing. "I want to run with my friends," says the 6-year-old as she stands in her cast boots waiting for the school bus.
Five more weeks, a brief moment in a lifetime of endless possibilities. This is what you want to say to reassure your child, and perhaps yourself.
Children have a way of keeping you honest -- on your toes. It is the unenviable role of parents to make sure kids are grounded in reality -- flat feet and all.
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