SOUTHERN EXPOSURE: WALKING WOUNDED: REPORTER, `HEEL' THYSELF

Have you ever hurt yourself in a way that sounds much nicer than it actually is? Like stubbing your toe. The word stub is much too benign and does nothing to describe the agony of running a toe straight into a solid object, like a wall.

Maybe they should call it gnashing your toe, that sounds a little more like it.

Well I bruised my heel the other day jogging. That's what it's called, a bruised heel, but it does nothing to describe the condition -- or the pain.

Those observant few who notice my shuffling, limping attempts to walk stare at me blank-faced when I answer their concerned questions about what is wrong.

I can see the thoughts behind their eyes, "He's making this much fuss over a bruise on his heel. What a wimp."

I know they're thinking back to those times when they've been walking around barefoot and planted their heel on a pebble. It's a painful shock but they didn't limp around for three days like their foot was going to fall off.

So I started thinking of different ways to describe it.

Maybe I should call it a "catastrophic" heel bruise. But that made it sound like it had exploded after a mid-air collision with a jumbo jet.

What about a "monumental" heel bruise? That made it sound like I stepped on the Lincoln Memorial.

"Terminal" heel bruise? No one would believe that and I didn't want people to start thinking I was going to die from a foot injury.

I did toy with the phrase "deep" heel bruise and that brought it home for some people. The word deep combined with bruise made most people crinkle their nose. They didn't understand what a deep heel bruise was but they knew they didn't like the sound of it.

But even that description was still bothering me. It technically isn't a deep bruise; you can't get very deep with the heel -- it's sitting right there.

So I started cornering those foolish few who would ask and describe the symptoms of a heel bruise. "According to a medical journal I have this is one of the most painful ankle injuries you can suffer," I'd say in a voice that sounded like I was puffing on an imaginary pipe.

"The book recommends that you stay off your feet for 24 hours, but who can do that," I'd ask with a shrug and grin that suggested I was making some huge sacrifice by simply standing there talking to them.

"It's a soft-tissue injury which means it gets worse if you let it sit and rest for a while then try to walk on it. If it stays warm, which means walking around on it, it maintains a steady level of agonizing discomfort," I'd explain.

But this is all self-diagnosis. I could be completely wrong.

I did have the opportunity to have it checked by a physical therapist the day after it happened. He looked it over, put me through a few tests then scratched his head and said he'd never seen anything like it.

Comforting words from a medicine man.

Lately I've started to wonder if it isn't something else. I think I'll start telling people I have an extreme inflammation of the plantar fascia. That should get their attention.

David Angier is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.