My friends are permitted only two minutes to talk about their ailments

March 11, 2026 — 7:00pm

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“I can’t begin to tell you how sore my heel is …” my voice trails off.

“But you have … about three times already today,” my husband cuts in. I’m trying to clock his tone to work out whether I need to be miffed or laugh. Because sometimes laughter is the only medicine.

“How’s your sore hip?” he continues.

My hip, with pain arching to my knee, isn’t too bad, currently relegated in the ailment hierarchy.

Today, the focus is on my suspected plantar fasciitis, self-diagnosed through a previous nasty episode and Dr Google. I fleetingly consider copying former AFL star Robert Harvey who famously treated his plantar fasciitis by jumping off a table until the tissue completely ruptured, theoretically easing the pain.

With my luck I’d end up in ED with a broken ankle or worse, so I’m alternating between rolling a golf ball and ice-filled water bottle under my foot. Finally, a beneficial use for my husband’s golf balls.

I’ve entered the age and stage where every second person in my circle over 50 has some ailment.........

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