Morning at the Docks, 16×20″ acrylic on canvas. At River Arts Gallery until July 30.

“Morning at the Docks” is on Display at River Arts Gallery, Route 1, in Damariscotta, Maine.
It is part of a group show for the month of July.

I also have a few matted original paintings in the art bin located at the back of the gallery.

The opening night of this month’s show was scheduled for Friday, 5-7PM.

It was a great show with lots of people mulling around from room to room.

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However, earlier that day, as I painted, the small 8×10″ canvas slipped off the easel and onto my bare right foot. The corner or this tiny canvas hit my metatarsals with such a vehement punch that I found myself clutching my foot, wincing and moaning in pain.

Fußskelett (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

An 8×10″ teeny, weeny canvas can do that? It doesn’t even weigh half a pound—even with the oil paint.

😈After a few minutes, being a diligent grown up, I picked up the canvas, gave it a good talking to, and ignoring the pain down below, I slapped more paint onto that little canvas.

The pain vanished.

With the injury forgotten, maneuvering the stairs to the second floor,  the basement and up again and later driving forty minutes to the gallery opening scheduled for 5:00 PM was a cinch.

Everything seemed as it should be.

As I meandered around the gallery, ooohing and aaahing at the other artwork and shyly meeting other artists, a little twinge developed atop the upper metatarsal area of my right foot. Hmm. Was it due to walking in my new, sole-stimulating sandals most of the day? Perhaps a pressure point developed from the sandal making my foot uncomfortable. Perhaps my foot was swollen due to the time of day. Well, that happened before and usually went away after a few minutes. So, I loosened the sandal and walked, ooohing and aaahing some more.

Twenty minutes later, the focus was my foot! The pain grew more pronounced. Was there a place to sit? The one chair was occupied by an older person. I stood the aggravation for another fifteen minutes. Propping myself by the piano for balance, I raised the right foot up off the floor.

Another ten minutes and it was unbearable. Catching the hostess eying me in my strange stance, I explained my dilemma. I wanted to stay, but felt I had to leave. Glancing at my foot, she noted a swelling and redness and suggested the tiny blood vessels were probably swelling, that I should ice it at home.

Leaving one hour earlier than planned finally provided me with a seat—in my car. Aaah.

Wouldn’t you know, while driving, the pain worsened with each mile, each acceleration and each brake action. Driving with my left foot came to mind, but that is impossible with a standard shift. So, gritting my teeth, I counted the miles and minutes to be home again.

At last! I pulled into the basement garage. Now, my damned foot decided to stay by the accelerator. It would not budge due to the awful pain. Grabbing and guiding my leg out from the car and onto the floor was excruciatingly painful. Breathing heavily and clenching my teeth, I pulled myself out of the seat and clung onto the car’s door and the firewood stacked next to the car. Between the car and the firewood, I managed to hobble to the end of the car. Walking was nearly impossible. Now I had to get to the stairs at the other end of the cellar. I was stuck and hurting with nothing to lean on.

Hubby was upstairs listening to the news!

“Tom!” No answer.

“Tom! I need you! Tom.”

Pulling out my cell phone, I dialed his. As usual, A.T.T. was useless. We are in the same house and can not call each other! Bad reception here.

“TO-O-O-O-O-O-M!” that did it.

“What’s the matter hon? Why are you home so early?”

emptied the tray of  Ice cubes  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hubby helped me to the stairs where I literally crawled up the stairs and to the living room sofa on my knees.

Having ordered a large dose of ice cubes and a wet towel, hubby sat nearby massaging my foot.

Besides icing it, I kept my foot elevated onto the back of he sofa. The pain finally subsided about one in the morning. Hubby was already snoring away upstairs. Hobbling up to our bedroom, I was grateful to be upright again.

The next morning, I was able to walk and decided to take it easy.

My foot just ignores me now. It denies it ever had a problem. But sometimes I think I catch a smirk when it is not paying attention.

I am blessed. It could have been worse. :-)