The health care industry worked at super-speed for me today. I went from work to my doctor’s office to the hospital and back to work in 90 minutes. The visit to my doctor lasted no more than ten minutes (if you count parking the car and waiting for the elevator). It mostly consisted of twisting my ankle around and poking and prodding. “Does this hurt?” “No.” ‘Does this hurt?’ “No.” “Does it hurt now?” “Not really.” “How about when I poke the bone really hard?” “Yup. Hurts.” (Before you ask why I was there at all if nothing hurt when the doctor asked, it hurts when I put weight on it and lean in any direction. I was sitting down when she twisted, poked, and prodded. I tried to tell her it mostly hurts when I’m standing up, but she wanted to do it her way. Silly doctors and their silly training.) Then she bundled me off to the hospital for an x-ray. Apparently, the radiology department does walk-ins. Fifteen minutes after I arrived, I walked out and drove back to work. Super-quick. I barely had time to read my book.
Later this afternoon, the doctor’s office called with the results: my ankle is fine. So….what do I do about the pain? Not much, apparently. I’m not supposed to do any exercise that puts weight on it for a week to ten days. Which is kinda not cool. It pretty much confines me to the exercise bike, which is not my favorite thing in the world.
Tomorrow is going to be a busy day (no work – all prep for leaving town), so I’m going to take advantage of tonight’s quiet to listen to some yoga/spa-ish music and relax.
Melvin?
This is what sucks about catching up on your blog posts. So, uh, you were toolin’ around Nawlins with a bum ankle and you never mentioned it? Or did you mention it and I was too drunk to notice? I hope if you did, I at least sympathized…
Zannah
Nope, I didn’t mention it. It didn’t hurt anymore. No worries!