Saturday, January 15, 2011
Runner Out Of Commission...Enter At Your Own Risk
I love it when I spend four hours of my Saturday morning in urgent care and leave, knowing no more than I did when I got there, but with drugs. Can you hear the irritation in my keystrokes? My knee has really been bothering me and it is getting worse, so I went to the urgent care today. I sat in the waiting room for a grand total of three and a half hours, and in the pharmacy for fifteen minutes, I saw a doctor, a nurse and an x-ray technician all in fifteen minutes. I left with an unclear diagnoses of "It could be's", crutches, a knee brace (I cannot wear because it has a hard support that smashes right up against the part of my knee that hurts), drugs, instructions to not put weight on it for at least a week, NO RUNNING until my family doctor releases me and here is the clincher...a note for a week off of work. Is there such thing for a mother of four boys? Going to an office to work would be more R&R than staying home, but even then, are you kidding me? How in the frick am I going to stay completely off of my leg, rest it, elevate it and ice it for twenty minutes every hour for a week and still have a house left standing when I can stand? I am not in a good mood. I don't like, "I don't know what's wrong with you, it could be this, this, this or possibly this, I don't read x-rays so we will have to wait for the radiology report, but here take these drugs and if the pain doesn't go away then we will do an MRI
and maybe fix the reason you are having the pain to begin with instead of just drugging you out of your mind, either way, the longer I prolong your misery the more I get paid. The more you come back to me because I hooked you on narcotics instead of fixing the problem. Or the more you come back to me so I can do one test a visit for the next six months until I finally decide to send you to someone who knows what the heck they are doing. Either way it looks good for me and not so good for you." So, normally when I am this irritated I lace up and run, what do I do now? I have no cinnamon bears or sour patch kids to bite the heads off of. Really it is therapeutic. I did bite JC's head off, chewed it up and spit it out. He's not as therapeutic as candy, he bites back, plus he doesn't taste nearly as good. I have no Oreos, no chocolate donuts, no diet Pepsi. Ya'll might want to pray that I can run again real, real soon, for my family's sake. This is not looking good. Going to take a nap now. Over and out.