I hate doctors. Hate them. Maybe it’s because I go more than any person should have to. After my accident I was at the doctor at least twice a week for two years. During my liver failure I was at the doctor at least once a week for two years. That is four years. Four horrible, miserable years with doctors who couldn’t fix me, and didn’t seem too concerned with trying. Whenever I had a suggestion because theirs didn’t work I was being dramatic. Apparently being upset over a broken back, fractured skull, seizures and liver failure is dramatic.
I went to the doctor for my foot yesterday. Something isn’t right. It grinds with every step and my ankle is so swollen you can’t even see the bones that normally stick out on each side. It’s starting to bruise. I was less than thrilled with going, but I’m freaked out. It started off with the nurse asking what was wrong, leading me back to a room and sitting at the computer. She asked me how I hurt my ankle. I told her it was my foot. She kindly replied with, “Whatever. What did you do to it?” She then proceeded to ask me what medications I am taking, then asked about the ones that show as prescribed in the computer. As I said no to each one she clicked the mouse and moved on, but it seemed to offend her that I wasn’t taking my birth control because she asked “Why not?” in a really pist off way. How about because it makes me a crazy, emotional wreck, so we use different forms of birth control?? Better yet, how about none of your freakin’ business, it has nothing to do with my damn foot.
By the time the doctor came in I was already pist, thanks to his sweet nurse. I might have poked her in the eye on “accident” when she took the blood pressure cuff off. Oops. He came in and he actually seemed ok. He wasn’t breathing fire and I don’t think he had a cricket inside his head that controlled him. He checked out my foot and ankle and told me I have plantar fasciitis. Basically the ligament that goes from heel to toe and supports the arch in my foot is inflamed. I was pretty impressed he knew this before even asking any questions, but hey, he’s the expert so I went with it. I decided to trust this guy. He asked me a bunch of questions, and I answered no to most. I asked him if that would cause the grinding I can feel and he said no. The pain and grinding are completely unrelated. They are in the exact same place, so that sounds about right. How could one possibly have anything to do with the other? He then told me that it also could be a stress fracture in the middle of my foot, but he didn’t want to do x-rays. He told me this plantar faciitis would cause at least a month of pain, but to come back for x-rays in a week if it didn’t feel better. Um…. what? Please tell me that makes no sense to you either. Why not just x-ray the damn thing NOW and not just guess at what is wrong with it? Apparently pointing out the contradiction was rude because after that he told me that completing the marathon with blisters was proof that I am dysfunctional, and that all runners have something mentally wrong. You know me. I always believe the jerk who just called me dysfunctional. I’m not saying he is wrong about the ligament, I’m just saying why not check both things? Especially since I’ve been doing research and the plantar fascia isn’t even located where my pain is. It must be the drama queen coming out again.
My pain isn’t even where the plantar fascia lies. In this picture my pain to the left of it, just above the heel. Any others with the same pain?
Any other runners out there wanna come with me to toilet paper this guys house?