Case Study: The Long-Term Effects of Kinesio Tape on Hallux Valgus - Week...I Don't Know Anymore

There is a reason I have not pursued a career in research, and I think this post is a clear demonstration as to why.  I started conducting my own little research project somewhere around a year ago, ended it in January, and am just now getting around to writing the follow-up.  If you were reading along before and need a refresher course, you can read the first post here, the second post here, and the third post here.

Let's see...so as of the last post I had been taping my toes for 7 wks.  I believe I continued taping for only another one or two weeks, because it was about that time I noticed my big toes feeling sore, especially on the right.  That toe started to look swollen and slightly red, so I decided to stop taping altogether.  I also realized that my big toenails were no longer growing; in fact, the last time I'd trimmed them was three months prior, but all the other toenails were growing on schedule.  

My toe pain finally simmered down, but then in April the right one flared up again.  It got super red and puffy and had every sign of infection.  So I ignored it.  It was originating from the nail bed, which was odd since I had no skin breakdown or lacerations to the area.  After about two weeks of that, the infection finally cleared up, and I started to lose my toenail.  I've never lost a nail before, and my toe had suffered no trauma or ingrown anything.  The nail just simply died and started to grow out.  There was some new nail trying to grow, but it wasn't moving very quickly.  By probably July-ish the dead nail was halfway grown out, and I accidentally snagged it on something and ripped off what was left.  Ouchie.  But that healed up and now - nearly November - I have about 3/4 of a toenail and it seems to still be filling in.  I'm relieved for that, because I thought I'd  never have a normal looking nail again.  Not that I'm vain about the appearance of my feet, but the once a year (or two) I decide to French tip my toenails, it's kind of nice to have something to tip.

My theory on the toenail weirdness is that the pull of the tape over the top of the nail affected its ability to grow out normally, which somehow messed with the nail bed and caused it to stop growing altogether.

As far as the measurements go, I re-measured again this summer, and my valgus angles were back to where they were before I started taping.  Therefore, my conclusion is this:  Kinesio tape will help improve the angle of hallux valgus, but not as a long-term solution.  I have heard from two people that the tape offered relief from pain they were having from hallux valgus, so I believe it is also an appropriate method for managing symptoms and pain related to this condition.  But I would advise caution with constant and repetitive taping over time based on what happened to my toenail.

This brings me to the official end of my case study.  (Whew.  That's a relief!)

Seasons of Change

Typically the view from the windows at work isn't all that exciting.  But when fall shows up, I will boast of one of the best views in town.  The trees outside these windows turn the most brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange.  With a backdrop of gloomy gray skies and green pines, the colors nearly glow.  This morning, however, gale-force winds showed up and the trees are steadily losing their magnificent color-blankets.  The bare branches poking out from the tops tease about the fast-approaching winter, and I mourn the passing of an all-too-brief fall season.

I watch the leaves fly and am reminded at how quickly - and regularly - life changes.  And this reminder parallels words from my Bible study:  The life of a Christian is never about sameness.  It's always about change.*  Change will happen, and it's necessary.  Without it my relationship with the One who loves me will not deepen.

Oh, how I balk at change.  I do not like for my consistency and order to be jumbled and shifted.  I do not like to face the unknown, and I certainly do not like to lose that which I hold dear because losing hurts.  I fear change because I fear pain.

Recently I traveled back to my second home in South Dakota, and with each familiar sight and street and face I felt the subtle stab of homesickness.  Each time I've gone back I've asked myself, "What have you done?  Look at what you gave up!"  I left dear friends and happy places and a town that feels more like home than anywhere else.  I want that home back.

But I have good things where I am now.  I have a job I love, and that is something I appreciate and grip tightly.  I have friends here who have become very dear, and slowly this new place is becoming home.  More than anything else, I have a new freedom.  I look back and I miss dearly what I used to have.  But when I see path God has led me on this past year and I notice how much He's grown me, I recognize some of the chains that used to hold me captive because of where I used to be.  He brought me away from what I had, and as a result I am no longer held captive by these chains, and the freedom is sweet.

I have meditated on these things lately, and as I watch the autumn-chilled winds wipe the beauty from the trees, I feel a mix of sadness, yet surrender, in knowing that the winds of life will blow again.  Sooner or later the beauty I experience now will be removed to make room for the next season, and through His miracle of life, God will grow me in ways that I cannot imagine.  Maybe it will be painful, or maybe not.  Either way, it will be good.  And while I may look back and miss what I have now, He is faithful to fill to overflowing the blessings of those who are faithful to Him.

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*Quoted from Breaking Free by Beth Moore.

Weary

Forgiveness and grace and reconciliation and love your neighbor and pearls before swine...the words spoken into my mind and heart this week, life-themes swirling around me lately like dancing wisps, sometimes pushing me through the day, other times taunting me.  I try to live them out, only to have my efforts rejected.  So time after time I watch circumstances settle back into the same rut, back into the same place and position and order they came from.  And it seems as though I'm the only one who notices.

I remember watching a friend in a similar place not that long ago.  She sought counsel, and I remember the words spoken to her:  If you start praying, things will get worse before they get better.  And it was true.  It was true for her, and it seems to be true for me.  I pray for souls and hearts, for Godly leadership and for change.  And I see nothing happening.  Except that I know something is happening because it's feeling worse.  So I trust that the forces in the spiritual realm are moving, just beyond the sight of my earthly eyes, and I cling to hope that their movement will spill over into the physical and finally change will happen.

This battle is not against flesh and blood.  I try to wield my sword, but the lines of black and white have muddled together into gray, and I no longer know where to stand and fight.  I'm tired of fighting.  The gray is thick enough that I cannot see if others stand with me...or if I stand alone.  I want to be done and walk away, back into the safety of black and white and easy and comfortable.  But I can still see enough past the gray to know that walking away means I lose.  And the prospect of losing what I have is enough to keep me from backing down.

Perseverance must finish its work, and I must let it or I have gained nothing.

Grace That Is Greater (2)

This grace journey feels like the theme of my life lately.  I'm learning things, big and small, and it's reshaping the way I love others.  I am starting to see how giving grace is much like living a story.  When I invest in the life of another, each offering and act of grace becomes a step I take hand-in-hand with that other person, a step that draws our hearts closer to the heart of Jesus.  It is the journey of loving someone straight into the arms of Jesus.

It is fairly easy to bestow grace on those who love me in return.  It's more challenging when my offers go unreceived and when I am repayed with further offense.  More than once I have found myself wanting to give up, save my energies for another who is more pleasant and who just might recognize my sacrifice.

But then I watch someone else push through the difficulties and continue to extend this grace, and I am encouraged to push on and continue to do what I know Jesus does for me over and over and over again. After all, how many times has He shown me grace only to have me reject or refuse or not even recognize it? Those are the times I need His grace the most, and so I continue to extend it even when it's hard, because that's when that person needs it the most.

Grace sounds like a gentle, flowing, beautiful creature who forgives readily and loves easily.  When looking at the big picture, that's how she might appear.  But when grace becomes personal, she looks less graceful.  Up close, grace becomes sacrifice, death to self, risk, being inconvenienced, getting hurt.  Sometimes it's easier to turn my back and wait for the opportunity to pass.  But when I do that, haven't I just deprived the recipient of her opportunity to experience the very grace of Jesus?  To Jesus, giving His grace was sometimes thankless, unpopular, painful, bloody...and His ultimate gift of grace resulted in death.  It is this very grace that welcomes me into His arms and allows me to spend all of eternity with Him.  When I extend this grace to others, I should not expect it to be easy or pretty all of the time.  But because it is a tiny reflection of His greater grace poured out, it is what I will commit to persevering in, with hope and faith that each small step of grace will guide another soul directly to Him.

The Heart of Worship

For just a few moments during our worship set this morning I heard the most beautiful sound.  The first song started with just a single voice and the piano leading, and the sound of the congregation singing as one reached all the way to the stage where I was standing.

There's no one like You, none like You.

I wonder if that's what God hears every Sunday.  I usually hear only the sounds of the music we play from the stage.  People standing in the crowd hear only the music and the sound of the few voices surrounding them.  But God hears it all.  And I wonder if He strips away all the extra noise and listens to simply the voices.  Different voices singing different parts, raising as a single beautiful worship offering to the One who brought them together.

I like to sneak a glimpse of the people while they worship.  It's a beautiful blend, our congregation.  There are the tall and the short, the old and the young.  Sometimes a stray child dances in the aisle, and that never fails to make me smile.  A row of college students sits on the front row, worshiping openly, and I remember my own college days when worship came so freely.  Raised hands are scattered throughout, some close eyes and others pour out their hearts as the tears fall freely.  Together, each heart lays on the alter of worship a piece of the sacrifice that God receives as a whole.

My ears heard only the sound, which was perfect.  God hears the sound, yes, but He also hears the heart.  Each heart.  What a new dimension that must add, the voice and the heart together, a sound heard only in the heavenlies.  What I heard was beautiful and fragrant.  How much more it must have been in that holy Place, the very dwelling of Yahweh where seraphs cover their faces and angels bow down...and where God's children approach to crawl into the lap of their Father.