Last Saturday, I awoke at 8:00am.
Last Saturday night, I went to bed at 10:00pm.
Last Sunday, I awoke at 7:30am.
What the hell? At what point did I become old? In college, those awoke / went to bed times were reversed. This is an horrific step in the journey to wearing suspenders that hold my pants up around my armpits, and I look forward to my mashed banana, "Are You Being Served" at 7pm on PBS, and having slow easy glide enemas to ease my constipation. You know what I mean, this is the journey of a thousand miles and it is starting with a bed time. Damn it.
Today I woke up with a swollen toe. Not in a good "A storm is coming" way but a "Oh shit, my warranty is up" way. The second metatarsal / phalanges on my left foot decided that it didn't want to work. I woke up and it said "Hey, fuck it. I'm done. Count me out."
I figured that this new development was something that maybe needed to be walked off.
It seems that the rest of the toes are fine, but my second one it just refuses to lift up. That's when the pain happens, trying to bend my toe upwards like in a normal step. As I hobbled into work, I called my doctor and made an appointment for later in the day.
Fast forward 6 horrific and painful hours (I was at work after all. The toe was just annoying and unpleasant) I called a cab, and hauled my ass over to the doctor's office.
He watched me squirm out of my shoe, then examined my toe and said "Well, it might be broken. What did you do?"
"Nothing. I woke up."
And this is what he says, I shit you not:
"Ah, it's starting."
Holy shit! Is there like a clock on my back?! Does he actually measure your life using http://www.deathclock.com/ ?
Ok, so now it is 3:15 and I have to haul my ass up 2 flights of stairs ( I took the elevator, of course) and I show up to the foot fetish lounge.
I answer some insurance questions, get asked several times who my primary doctor is, and after every answer I get "Oh...Him."
Alright, little creepy, but whatever. I like him. I'll look past this.
So I get led into this back room, and I'm told to take my socks and shoes off so the doctor will be better able to come in and suck on my toes. I mean examine my toes.
Side note: You have to be messed up to want to work with feet. I mean, working with intestine is shitty, but at least it isn't with people's nasty ass feet. Don't get me wrong, my feet are perfect, but I'm just sayin', some peoples aren't so good.
This portly older gentlemen whom I can only describe looks like a southern Colonel minus the weird white goatee comes in and greets me.
This is the type of person who has charisma and presence. Someone you instantly like despite the fact that he's a stranger.
"Hello Mr. Carlson, what seems to be the trouble with your toe?"
"Well, I can't bend it. The others are fine... YEEEOWW!!!!" I scream as he bends down, grabs my bad toe, and peels it backwards.
"Guess that hurt huh?" he chuckled
Despite myself, and the blinding wall of red pain that I'm seeing through, I chuckle as well. What can I say? This guy has an affability that needs to be researched.
"Does it hurt when you pee?"
"Yeah, but only because I squeeze every last drop out"
Chuckle. "I mean, does it burn?"
"No. That's a foot related question?"
"Yes haha, it might mean you have (something or other that I completely forgot because he then man handled my toe, sending waves of agony up into the pit of my stomach)"
He took my X-rays, looked at them, and saw something there that I didn't see at all (Oh, if you look real close, you'll see I have a bone spur on my big toe. Isn't that interesting / disgusting?)
As I was looking at the X-Rays, he bent down and began suckling on my toes. "I'm testing to see if there are any bacterial infections. This may take a minute". Ok, that didn't happen, but I know that kinky freak was thinkin' it. Him an his lovable portliness.
"Do you eat beef? Drink excessive amounts of red wine?"
No, and no.
"Might be gout, might be arthritis. We'll get some blood work done on you, and we'll see what it is. For now we'll put you in a buddy splint." - which basically is means he just taped my big toe to the damaged toe next to it. Surprisingly it did help. These freaky foot doctors sure know their stuff! He bandaged me up, caressed my foot for a few more minutes, moaned inappropriately, and then smelled his hands. No lie.
Ok, maybe a little lie. The bandaging did happen though.
He then says to me "Don't worry, maybe it is just some inflammation. Nothing to be worried about." Stands up, says goodbye to me, then heads out the door.
Not three feet from the door, his nurse practitioner says "So what's the verdict?" And as loud as if he were talking across the room, says "Probably Gout."
WTF?! Give me a straight answer you sideways foot loving pain inducing ..... aw, I can't stay mad at you! You're so portly and cuddly!! (Fuck, how does that man do it!!!)
I hop on down to the lab to get my blood work done, and of course they are closed for the day. Not wanting to have to come back again for blood work alone, I remember that there is another lab 2 blocks down the street.
Ok, I can walk 10 feet in 7 minutes, that should only take me 5 more hours. Dammit!
Again, I grit my teeth, spit blood, and of course push an old woman who happened to be walking faster than me over on the way there.
I get to the lab, and of course there is drama there. So much so that I'm a little worried.
"I'm supposed to be done for the day, I ain't doing any more!" screams a woman.
"They've been waiting an hour!" screams the boss.
Oh god. Great, this cross eyed pin sticker is pissed, and she's going to take it out on me.
My turn comes up, and I hobble over. "Oh great, your info isn't filled out. Your doctor probably wanted to get out of there, just like me."
In my humble and terrified voice, I say "I'm sorry" (Insert puppy dog eyes here)
"Oh honey, don't worry, it's ok. I'm not upset at you." Success!!!! I can still win 'em over.
So here I am. Waiting to see if I have gout. I was going to research the disease, but instead I figured I'd type it into my blog. My god, this took almost an hour. Time to get to bed!!