Sorry to keep you all in suspense for so long, but I got the news back from my doc. And I swear sometimes it seems like Laurel and Hardy might as well be in the office working on my heel. I really don’t think they know what the hell they’re doing in there. I mean I’m sure they know their anatomy and passed the cutting up humans part of their medical exams, but it’s like a craps shoot figuring out what they’re gonna tell me about my foot. I mean they recognize my face, and I’m sure they’ve got a lot of patients, but try to remember what you told me last week. Keep a chart or something. Plus there’s this fat guy with a Hitler mustache and a derby running around in black and white getting into fine messes all the time.
To recap on my injury and the newest developments in brief, I do not have to go back under the knife and get restitched or restapled or refastened in any way. There will be no more OR room, and no more talk of bad practice. I’m to keep taking antibiotics and “keep doing what I’ve been doing” since the last visit Thursday. Those words were spoken by my surgeon while I was in the doctor’s office at my appointment. Those exact words will be important later. What I was told to do last Thursday was in my last e-mail, so if you didn’t read it, you’re going to be lost. But anyway, I left feeling positive and happy that I didn’t have to go back under the knife. I was leaving the office and passed my surgeon on her way back in, to which she inquires…
Doc: “Why are you still on crutches.”
Me: (confused) “Because you told me to be. Besides, with my brace set at 110 degrees, I can’t walk on it without inverting my knee.”
Doc: “Oh… well… see you next week.”
And then she called me Alice.
Getting a first opinion,
Still Stranded Right Here…