About dominant, carrying-the-load limbs and the fatigue they can succumb to...

My right foot had the surgery. I was off my right leg for a couple of months, speeding around on a scooter.

The left leg was doing all the pushing off when I'd get up from sitting, and all the shoving up when I'd scooch up the stairs on my rear.

When the left leg started to respond with aches and swells, John, the physical therapist told me it was normal. He said he was surprised it waited so long to kick in. Gave me some flexion and extension exercises, which helped.

But the aches all up and down continued.

I have never had pain. I've been so blessed in my life, hospitalization at age 5 for tonsils, a few falls on my face for a trip or two to the ER. Headaches now and then. Slam my fingers in a desk drawer. Once, when I was a kid, the middle finger on one hand -- I don't remember which -- in my uncle's car door.

So I haven't understood what it is to carry pain as some people do.

From my couple of weeks with a weak, overworn leg and its complaints, I found out. I do not like pain.
The pain was in the leg, but the rest of the body was exhausted. Get-me-home-and-into-bed tired, almost to tears.

Friends were over for the 1st Presidential Candidates' Debate.  We talked about the fatigue of the workhorse limb.

I had a talk with my left leg later. I thanked it for all the extra work it's done this spring and summer. I assured it that although my mind has believed things were back to normal and I've been pushing to do what I used to -- and really can't, yet -- that I was going to make a change. I'd let the left leg and its comforts set the pace. I wouldn't push it.

It worked.  Today, virtually no pain. Slow as mud, but -- no pain.

Thank you, Lord! I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made; wonderful are your works.
(Psalm 13)



Photos: Twilight walk home, Oct. 4, 2012