(Kelley you wanna skip this one? It’s about feet.)
Yes, this is about as exciting as life has been lately. And no, that is not an attempt to incur the creative and twisted wrath of the SBDA hosts and audience. I still have the weekend coming up soon.
Went to the podiatrist yesterday because I’d finally had enough of my feet breaking down all the damned time and keeping me from running, or making me want to saw them off with a hacksaw in order to relieve myself of the near constant discomfort.
When they first started going all wonky, one swelled up and I could hardly walk at all. Later on, they were both uncomfortable to walk on let alone run on them. And now after several weeks of trying to rest them, they aren’t a whole lot better. I had initially thought that maybe it was a hairline fracture or a “march” fracture because of all the running on concrete sidewalks. Or possibly even bone spurs in weird places in both feet. But in the end, it ended up being a little more wussey than I had masochistically hoped.
I went in yesterday and got examined. Out of personal hygiene paranoia, I washed my feet, changed socks and Febreezed the shoes before I went. The nurse found that both humorous and thoughtful, and I’m sure she wished that all her patients were as paranoid as I am. Well, she probably didn’t really wish that, maybe she just wished that few of the big, nasty bastards that she sees would.
Anyways; the doctor comes in, grabs my feet, yanks my toes every wichaway, asks me if random pokes and prods hurt, decides I need x-rays, and sends me off across the hall in a retarded-looking pair of brown paper slippers. I was cool with taking the 2 and a half steps across the hall barefoot, but you know, doctor’s orders.
I get my battery of x-rays and my dose of non-gamma radiation, head back to the other room a step and a half away, and promptly fall asleep in the chair for about 10 minutes or so. No time for sweet dreams as Dr. Foot comes back in with my results.
No fractures, not foot deformities, no nothing. Well, one bone in my right foot was slightly longer than its southie counterpart; but nothing that seemed I had a mutant gene or was destined to evolve and develop some kick-ass ability to run like the Flash. Damn it.
Turns out I have some tendonitis in both feet from just overdoing it for so long. Nothing that can’t be cured with more freakin’ rest, ice, and a couple of medications. One of those meds being a glorified extra-strength Aleve (I was pissed because I have plenty of Advil at home. And you can drink with Advil.), while the other was a steroid that isn’t even cool enough or strong enough to help me when I work out and hopefully doesn’t have that shrinkage side effect. 'Roid rage might be fun though.
So I’ve got about 3 weeks before I go back and see what’s up then. If everything’s not cool or close to it by then, I’m gonna ask him what medical science’s progress is with foot replacement surgery/transplants and nanobots.
D
6 comments:
Derek, I'm no doctor, but this sounds suspiciously like gout to me, an affliction I'm WAY too familiar with. You might want to ask your doc about that possibility.
When you made the "hacksaw" comment, I had to laugh because I've said the same thing during an attack.
And freakin' meant it. Literally.
Good luck, and hopefully, your doctor is right and it's just a temporary thing.
SAW 3: The Return of the Hacksaw.
Now coming to a theater near you.
"You have to cut your feet off or be faced with walking around gingerly for the rest of your life."
I went and looked up gout and didn't think it could be it until I saw that too much alcohol could be a cause. I was just like "aw, shit."
Yeah, I thought I'd let you find out about that part yourself.
Seriously, your experience so mirrors mine when I was diagnosed. I also had the x-rays done, because I figured anything that hurt that freakin' much and got so grotesquely swollen just had to be a fracture or something structurally wrong.
Nope, it was those little uric acid needles forming in the flesh of my ankles (and occasionally, toes.)
Not a party, let me tell ya.
Awesome. I'll have to ask about that in a few weeks when I go back.
But is yours kinda always there? Or does it come and go?
Comes and goes. Sometimes I can go for a year or so with no problem, and sometimes I can barely walk for two weeks.
It's mostly diet in my case; I just can't help eating disgustingly unhealthy food every now and then.
Jake's seen me at my worst at work. Ask him about it sometime. It literally looks like I have a softball in my sock (I've had to cut socks off more than once, let me tell ya.)
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