Sunday: Faced with more foolishness on the part of clueless, self-involved students than perhaps a mere two hours can hold, yet there it was. Snapped at someone. Sent someone else a meme of a double face palm rather than a written response because truly, the fail was too epic for words.
Monday: Noticed that my ankles hurt more than usual, as did my hip and back. Put on my ankle compression socks and my best boots (Born, riding boots, supremely comfortable and not dorky). Determined by the time I got to work that my ankles were horrid, hurting in the front with every step so that getting from the parking lot to the Shop was nearly unbearable. Suffered in silence all day. Child I snapped at emailed and requested a meeting in person about our “misunderstanding.” Assumed the worst on that. Barely made it out to the car to go home. Googled the ankle pain and came up with “anterior impingement”—indicating that each time my foot flexes, the bones are pinching the soft tissue at the front of the ankle. No meaningful treatment options. Panic about necessity of walking. Reminded self that there was an outside possibility that student wanted to meet with me not to complain but to apologize for her role in being snapped at. Took a resentful bath.
Tuesday: Tried shoes with small heel (Reikers, 1.25″ heel). Ankles slightly better but note I am also trying to walk without bending them as much as possible. This creates radiating pain from outside of ankle to knee, plus more pain in hips and back. Meet with student who indeed does want to apologize and figure out what happened, not whine. Very good. A Stalker locates his victim in my classroom, causes disruption. I call the police. Before they arrive the Stalker comes back and I use Command Voice to order him to leave immediately. Use of Command Voice results in an adrenaline rush that cancels out most of the pain in my ankles until late that evening, when they feel like the weight of my feet is far more than they can endure and I lose a small bit of my equilibrium because they hurt so much.
Wednesday: Dress like a very feminine assassin and carry pepper spray in case the Stalker ignores the police and returns. A student says, “You look really great, and like you might hurt someone, so I like it but I’m a little scared.” I wear flat motocross style Donald J Pliner boots. Ankles do not hurt like Monday or Tuesday, but feel achy and weird. Hips, back and shoulders carry the pain torch. Cut out and make a dress for upcoming production, teach makeup class, advise students as to appearance of Stalker and what to do if sighted. Department Chair agrees to install security camera to watch shop entrance. Worry constantly about ankles. Set down and forget about pepper spray several times.
Pretty stressed about what in the hell tomorrow might bring and if ankles will go south again, etc. It’s only Wednesday, dammit.