So, about three weeks ago, I had a fasciitis flare up.
I did what my people do and rubbed some dirt on it, cut the dogs' walk short but kept walking, kept aqua exercising, and only when I was home allowed myself to sag in any chair I could find.
The flare up faded, but I somehow screwed up the muscles in the back of my leg.
Yes, I literally sprained my ass.
Thigh, calf, ankle--all hurt. Lots of Motrin. Still hurt.
Called the doctor, who said, "Hey, I don't even know you--go take some blood tests, okay?"
*whine* Yeah, sure, I took some blood tests--which all came back GREAT, btw, as in my blood sugar went down to regular, NON pre diabetic levels, and for a whole minute I was proud and excited until I realized hey, I hadn't lost a motherfucking pound.
Anyway-- in the meantime, the strained muscles went away, but last night, my foot started to hurt.
Really frickin bad.
Wake Mate up to go get me Motrin so I could walk to the bathroom to pee sort of bad.
This morning was my scheduled doctor's appointment, and I swear I almost turned around when I stopped to get coffee because driving hurt so bad.
I didn't--I limped into the doctor's office, and a bunch of stuff was discussed, including my ROCKING TEST SCORES which show I've been doing GREAT on my diet, except, you know STILL GODDAMNED FAT. (I'm not a little bitter about this in the same way I'm not a little bitter that HRC isn't my president right now. We're talking THAT LEVEL of cosmic betrayal here.)
Anyway, the doctor did an interesting thing.
I was expecting a prescription--which I intended to mail order because I didn't want to walk to the pharmacy, and I expected a lecture on the weight, and hey, see the bitterness mentioned above, but what I did not, positively NEVER expected was that she would order me an injection of Toradol to ease the pain I was experiencing RIGHT THE FUCK THEN.
I cried.
Oh my God--in my entire history as a patient, no doctor ever did a thing to put me out of my immediate misery without judgment or hesitation.
Not. Once.
It went into effect as I was driving home. It still hurt when I walked, but I wasn't in tears when I drove, and God.
Oh my God.
Just one day without pain.
The injection didn't start to wear off until later tonight, and in the meantime, I was a good girl and elevated my feet and even used an ice pack (and ate cookies because I was still miserable about the weight) but dude.
If she can put me out of my misery for just a day--I just might be on board this doctor's train.
I'm saying.
Damn.
I think all doctors should maybe make pain relief a priority, don't you think?
2 comments:
Girl, you need a massage therapist who specializes in myofascial release therapy, and you absolutely need Vionic with Orthoheel technology shoes. Yesterday. My pain started with my hips and moved downward, whereas yours started at your feet and moved upwards, but it's the same problem, and it starts because we wear cute shoes, instead of shoes that support that plantar fascia (and Vionics now has some cute shoes, too.). But the massage therapy is essential, because it's so hard to achieve pain relief without it. Look for the shoes at soleprovisions.com , although your local department store should carry them.
And how WONDERFUL, and how unfortunately rare, that you found a physician who is caring and supportive. I had one, and then he moved. Now I have a young fresh-out-of-Med-school doctor, and while she is up on the latest technologies and theories, she and I are still finding our way.
But take heart! You will be running up and down stairs again! And all the other things! Mwah!
I agree, Amy, but it's going to be harder for them to do that now that opiates are almost off the table. It is wonderful to see a health care provider and not feel judged, isn't it? I saw a new (to me) PA recently. He was very good and exhibited none of the dismissive behavior I've come to expect. What a relief.
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