Just What the Doctor Ordered

I went to see my doctor today to check up on the foot and leg, you know the one injured when the car ran over it. The leg has started to hurt and is tender up the front of the shin so yesterday I called, talked to the nurse and made an appointment for today to see the doctor.

I found out at the appointment that the shin is very tender if someone touches it in certain places. I’ve done my best all week not to touch it more than absolutely necessary. The doctor took a different approach. He touched it. Not only did he touch it but he gently pushed here and there as he worked his way from ankle to knee. At one point I said something like ow or ouch to which he asked if that was a tender spot. Being that I’m not the least bit sarcastic ever, I wanted to say “No, I’m just rehearsing lines for a play I’m in about a woman who gets run over by a car,” but instead said “Yeah, a little.”

Since this wasn’t, of course, the doctor I had seen in the emergency room last week I got to repeat my story for the 374th time since it happened. I hope to never ever tell anyone the story again. I’m tired of it. It always ends the same way. I’d like a new story please. (Can you tell I’ve developed some grumpiness here? Or perhaps it’s more churlishness, bitchiness, irritation, frustration, or just a pissy mood. Whatever.)

Fortunately, either the doctor is used to grumpy people in pain or just has a fabulously calm and easy demeanor. Either way he was wonderful to me once he stopped poking and prodding the leg. First off he gave me a prescription for a lovely anti-inflammatory medicine that is supposed to help the swelling that is causing the pain. Second, and best of all, he encouraged me to continue elevating the foot as much as possible and making everyone else wait on me hand foot. Both the prescription and the recommendation to take it easy are good for the next couple of weeks.

Now, would you mind getting me a glass of ice water please? Oh and a few more pillows for the foot would be nice. Where’s the newspaper? Oh, and one more thing, here’s my dishes from earlier that you can take to the kitchen for me. Thanks. After all, I’m just following doctor’s orders.