All the Way Down the Hallway
I'm in a real bind here. First off, I absolutely hate going to the doctors. I simply figure that things will correct themselves through time. Since I treat my body like a temple, I expect that eventually it will run adequately.
I've been having pain in my right knee since July. I originally hurt the Achilles and had to wear a boot. The Achilles healed, but the pain on the side of my knee wouldn't go away. I lost weight. I rode the exercise bike. I even ran a little and went to the hot tub. The pain hasn't changed at all.
Went to the doctor...he prescribed a pill and told me to see the surgeon. Today, I went to the surgeon.
My brother John had work done on both of his knees. He predicted what would happen today.
"They'll collect your co-pay, give you an X-ray that won't show anything, put you on anti-inflammatory that won't work...and string you along for a few months until they can get the insurance to go for an MRI. Then they'll operate and fix it about six months from now."
So...just as predicted I'm waiting in a very narrow hallway after the X-ray, my co-pay already in the pocket of the girl at the front desk, and the doc never touched my knee. He just asked me to explain the pain on a scale of 1 to 10....which is the dumbest thing I ever heard.
How the hell do I know what a 6 or 7 feels like?
There I sat in the chair as a man about ten years older than me led his elderly mother, walker and all down the hall. There was a strange cap-gun noise coming from the woman, but I couldn't figure out what it was...until she got right in front of me.
She was farting. And I'm not talking about a fart that slips out and causes a uncomfortable, awkward moment...this was a long, drawn-out, constant blistering of rancid farts that caused me to turn to the back wall.
"That's okay, Mom," the guy said. "You're doing real good."
"I'm so sorry," the woman said to me.
Not as sorry as me. I thought of the moment in the movie Step Brothers where the guy farts during a job interview and the interviewer (Seth Rogan) says, "I can taste it."
I can still taste it...three hours later...with my anti-inflammatory in hand, my wallet twenty bucks lighter and my knee still aching.
I may never visit a doctor again.
I've been having pain in my right knee since July. I originally hurt the Achilles and had to wear a boot. The Achilles healed, but the pain on the side of my knee wouldn't go away. I lost weight. I rode the exercise bike. I even ran a little and went to the hot tub. The pain hasn't changed at all.
Went to the doctor...he prescribed a pill and told me to see the surgeon. Today, I went to the surgeon.
My brother John had work done on both of his knees. He predicted what would happen today.
"They'll collect your co-pay, give you an X-ray that won't show anything, put you on anti-inflammatory that won't work...and string you along for a few months until they can get the insurance to go for an MRI. Then they'll operate and fix it about six months from now."
So...just as predicted I'm waiting in a very narrow hallway after the X-ray, my co-pay already in the pocket of the girl at the front desk, and the doc never touched my knee. He just asked me to explain the pain on a scale of 1 to 10....which is the dumbest thing I ever heard.
How the hell do I know what a 6 or 7 feels like?
There I sat in the chair as a man about ten years older than me led his elderly mother, walker and all down the hall. There was a strange cap-gun noise coming from the woman, but I couldn't figure out what it was...until she got right in front of me.
She was farting. And I'm not talking about a fart that slips out and causes a uncomfortable, awkward moment...this was a long, drawn-out, constant blistering of rancid farts that caused me to turn to the back wall.
"That's okay, Mom," the guy said. "You're doing real good."
"I'm so sorry," the woman said to me.
Not as sorry as me. I thought of the moment in the movie Step Brothers where the guy farts during a job interview and the interviewer (Seth Rogan) says, "I can taste it."
I can still taste it...three hours later...with my anti-inflammatory in hand, my wallet twenty bucks lighter and my knee still aching.
I may never visit a doctor again.
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