How I Worked on my Mental to Improve my Physical (pt. 1 )

Part 1: My feet are fucked up

The series of questionable decisions that led to Neuropathy

––

Disclaimer: this is a long and personal story. Many of you know parts of it; very few know the whole thing. I'm not putting this out to start a pity party, I've done enough of that on my own. This is the story of my life, for better or worse, since 2017, and I feel it is important context to understand where I'm at and why I'm doing what I'm doing. Additionally, I'll discuss my own mental health in part 2, and I believe that the more stories like this are shared, the more people will feel comfortable addressing their own mental health.

I've separated this post into 2 parts, and what you're about to read might be considered a bit of a "downer". Part 2 (How I Worked on my Mental to Improve my Physical) is more uplifting and will take you through my journey the past couple years, leading to this trip.

––

The Hodi (plural of Hodes) are an interesting clan. Don’t get me wrong, we are a hell of a great time. But – how should I put this – we don’t always think too hard about things before doing them. I suppose this applies mostly to the males of the family, which explains the crux of this story.

At the peak of Mt. Harvard

4 years (and change) ago, I did something stupid. Well, short-sighted at least. I was on a camping trip in Colorado, an annual trip some guys in the Hodes family do; we call it Rocky Ramble. We had completed 2 14’ers (14,000 ft. mountains) the previous day, and adrenaline must have still been pumping. Or, more likely, testosterone was the problem.

Someone in the group mentioned some swimming hole that was on the way back from the mountains, and we decided to stop there to do some cliff-jumping. Unbeknownst to most of us in the group, the water level at this swimming hole fluctuated a lot at random, and we had come at a day when the water was low.  How low I’m not too sure, but low enough that you had to be careful jumping in. It’s recommended to kick your feet out as you hit the water to avoid hitting the bottom. But we saw other people jumping in the water and figured it must be fine.

I had no idea about the water level, or what you’re supposed to do when water is shallow. I jumped from one of the higher cliffs – I had some “experience" from the local swimming pool with platform boards. And I had always jumped in like a pencil; straight in feet first. This is how I was most comfortable. But the strangest thing happens when you jump into shallow water like a pencil: you hit the bottom! 

I collided with the bottom pretty harshly. Both heels dug into what was either rock or an equally hard surface. As I get out of the water I’m definitely walking gingerly but I think I’m okay. I sit down outside the water where many who had just jumped in were sitting, and after a few minutes I realize something is definitely wrong. It’s my right heel; it’s tender to the touch and putting any weight on it is painful. The walk back to the car is long and I am wearing flip flops; not ideal! 

Lollapalooza 2017 - a couple weeks post-injury 

We get back and regroup; it turns out there were 3 separate injuries, and to be fair to myself, mine was by far the least stupid. Chris – my uncle – had jumped in with shoes on, and one of the shoes shot up when it hit the water, twisting his ankle. Dave – my other uncle – straight up belly-flopped from a height you should definitely not be belly-flopping. This was one of the funniest things I had ever watched unfold; there is a picture of it happening floating around somewhere. Both Dave and Chris would recover in the next month or 2.

As for my injury, it healed as you’d expect any normal bone/tendon injury to heal. It’s definitely a painful next couple weeks, but the next month I’m able to do 4 days of Lollapalooza, wearing supportive boots. And while it remains manageable, the right heel injury just keeps hanging around. I go to an orthopedic doctor. They do some x-rays and say it’s probably a bone bruise or something similar. Give it some time and it will heal fully. It never does.

Over the next year and a half, the heel pain doesn’t change. I develop a few strategies to cope with the pain and I’m able to go out in college, do music festivals, go on hikes, pretty much all I had been doing. But the damn thing keeps nagging, and it all comes to a head summer of 2018 – right after I graduate from Tulane. 

Bonnaroo 2018: when things started going downhill

I go to Bonnaroo that summer with friends. I have a blast but quickly after I get back I realize I overdid it. Like a lot. The pain starts getting worse, slowly but surely. But I’m in denial at this point and convinced it will get better on its own. I have a job that summer and save up money to go on a solo adventure through Eastern Europe and the Balkans, sort of like what I’m doing now. Again, I have a blast, but I make another oversight and don’t bring good shoes. I bring some sneakers that look nice, with orthopedic inserts that had been working, but early in the trip these become extremely uncomfortable. I try to address this with new inserts, and even new running shoes (but they didn’t have the model I used).

I find a solution that sort of works, but not really. I think what ends up happening is my body adjusts to the level of activity and stress I’m putting on my feet, and I trudge on through the diminished but still present pain. Again, I have an amazing trip, and I wouldn’t say I regret it, but I do think I pushed my limits of activity too much. There wasn’t a better option on a budget and staying at hostels.

Anyways, when I get back to Chicago, the pain has spread to my left foot, and it’s not just the heel anymore, it’s both heels in addition to the sides of the bottom of my feet, and big toes. I am forced to finally address the problem. It’s become clear that it’s not going to get better on its own, and in fact will continue worsening if I don’t do something.

Thus begins the gauntlet of doctor visits, tests, imaging, procedures, and treatments, including: medication, physical therapy, acupuncture, laser therapy, injections, infusions (yes, they’re different), and several self-imposed attempts at treatment. This is everything I’d been subconsciously dreading, and probably the reason it took so long for me to accept there was something seriously wrong.

2020, summed up

No amount of treatment or medication changes seem to help my feet. In fact, over the next 2 years (until early 2021), my feet continue to get worse. In the mere span of a couple years, it goes from a nuisance to a debilitating injury that’s taken over my entire life. I socialize less, and when I do it is more stressful than enjoyable. Little to no standing or walking means that I’m no longer able to do many of the things I once loved: concerts, festivals, hiking, traveling, running, etc. I had planned to see more of my friends after graduation and/or go on some trips, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving Chicago if I can help it. Not to mention side effects from the treatments add to the stress (one would give me migraines so bad I would be mostly in bed and out of commission for at least 2 days).

After being bounced around to countless doctors and tested for every condition under the sun, I settle on a neurologist who tests me for small fiber peripheral neuropathy (SFPN). The skin biopsy comes back positive, and it seems we finally have a diagnosis. I remember feeling a euphoric wave of relief hearing this news. The hardest part of this whole condition was not even knowing what it was. How could I cope with something that I have no idea if it will get better, worse, or how long it would stay with me? Would it be something I dealt with my entire life?? Knowing what I was fighting lifted a weight off my shoulders I didn’t even know was weighing me down.

As it turns out, a positive test for SFPN didn’t really change much. We still have to know what caused it. As in, what’s the underlying condition that we need to treat? Up to now we had only been treating symptoms.

On comes another round of tests and treatments, and some second, third, fourth opinions. The latest is that – get this – we still don’t know! In fact, my latest doctors aren’t even sure it’s SFPN. The diagnosis still doesn’t explain why it all started with trauma from the cliff jump.

Bonfire in May 2021

But if you’ve made it this far, don’t worry, there is some good news. I don’t really care! I’ve made tremendous strides with my mental health (which I explore in part 2), and that has led me to a place that I felt comfortable embarking on this highly active journey. This trip is just as much an effort to get away from the city, enjoy nature and figure out what I want to do with my life, as it is an effort to get away from the constant barrage of doctor visits, tests, and procedures.

Read Part 2, "How I Worked on my Mental to Improve my Physical, And How the Hell do I Hike with Neuropathy?"

Subscribe

* indicates required

Email Address *

First Name

Last Name