Furry Crocs and Other Freaks of Nature

I’ve had cold feet since my teens, but the situation has declined along with my mobility. When you don’t move, neither does your blood, and more than a decade of ALS has left my circulatory system sinfully lazy. Next to me, Dick Cheney would look like a triathlete. (He wouldn’t get very far, though, because my wheelchair would be parked on his foot.)

At this point my feet are no longer entirely human. They’re still a more or less normal shape, but they’re prone to swelling, which causes them to turn colors. The palette is that of desert sunsets, ranging from dull yellow and orange through vivid red to a lovely but slightly alarming aubergine.

The latest complication is the most curious, perhaps a rare instance of devolution. After all these years of atrophy, if my feet aren’t braced against something stiff, they’re liable to curl under like a monkey’s. This development might have been fun had it come with the strength to climb trees; alas, it did not.

All of this limits my footwear options, to put it mildly. I still wear nice shoes for special occasions, but that’s not practical on a daily basis because it can require a shoehorn, a hammer, a vise, and/or Crisco, depending on the size and shape of my feet at the time.

Last year I was delighted to discover Crocs, which are comfortable and go on easily, especially with socks. They had a fatal flaw, though: With no lining, my feet froze in cold weather, no matter how warm my hosiery. So you can imagine my delight when they came out with a fleece-lined version recently. I ordered a pair last month, slapped them on as soon as they arrived, and have barely doffed them since. It’s a rare product that inspires me to rave. But while I’m at it, let me also put in a grateful word for a related discovery: SmartWool socks. Between those and the Crocs, this has been a much more comfortable winter. That and the fact that it’s 70 degrees today.*

* What’s up with that? Not that I’m complaining -- but, really, it's January.