Saturday, February 25, 2012

Yoo 288 - The Doctor and Celebrex

I really do not love going to the doctor.

Now, I know you're thinking "Cool, Kyoo, who does?".

And I'm here to say "No, I really do not love going to the doctor."

Actually, it's probably more that I hate trying to find a new doctor. But actually scheduling an appointment and going to the doctor is still not favorite.

Like, I will call my mom and start to whine and complain like a small child and maybe even go as far as ask her to call and schedule an appointment for me. Or just call one of my old doctors and ask them my question. Or even delay an appointment until I'm back "home" in Nebraska and can go to one of my old doctors myself. And by myself I mean with my mom.

I've gone as far as finding a friend with a similar problem (acne) and having them schedule an appointment for us (me) to see a new doctor (dermatologist) together (for fun).

I need to grow up! But I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon.

For example: my right foot. There's been this pain of sorts in my metatarsally region that's been affecting things like, oh, running and walking and jumping and standing.

Not a big deal.

I've been ignoring it. Because that's what most athletes do. DO NOT TELL ME TO TAKE A FEW DAYS OFF I CAN IGNORE THIS WHAT LIMP? That approach. (stupid...stubborn...hard-headed, yes all apply).

But then people were pestering me about that limp and telling me all sorts of horror stories like they're so good at ("and so and so couldn't run for two years and her foot was permanently maimed because she ignored it...") and then I started fixating on those horror stories and what two years without running would do to me ("anyone else see 200 on the bathroom scale?") because of course that's what was going on with my foot and then it became really hard to ignore the problem.

So, after deliberating with the Gregbeau, and the Alishafriend, and 5 of my coworkers and the Kyoomom, I decided I should actually go to the doctor.

Except the conversation with the Kyoomom lasted a while and consisted of me slouching in an abandoned chair at work almost with tears welling up in my eyes while begging and pleading. "Can you just call Dr. Maynard and ask him if I can ignore this? No I can't call him! He'll remember you better. His nurse, Jackie? She loves me?? Ask her then! I don't want to call! I'll feel so stupid calling and won't know what to say!! Moms call all the time!"

She didn't call. Something about how I need to grow up? Lame.

Still feeling stubborn at this point and desperate to find ANY other solution to the problem, I spent hours researching podiatry and sports medicine websites trying to diagnose my own problem. But it didn't sound like anything described therein.

Great. None of the medical journals can describe my problem. How am I supposed to??

So, when self-diagnosis didn't work and I knew I didn't have the resolve to take a couple weeks off and just let it heal without someone telling me to, I found a doctor and scheduled an appointment.

By myself.

Please recognize the magnitude of that.

And do you know how that doctor's appointment went?

A little like this.

I filled out the paperwork like a pro. Until I realized my health insurance card was expired. Probably because I never use it?  So I had to drive home, rifle thru months of mail until I found the new one, activated it, and drove to the doctor. Then I nervously sat in the waiting room and pretended to blog about Costco Frozen Yogurt but actually I was doing all sorts of things with my right foot trying to prepare my "it hurts when i do this..." statements ahead of time.

I knew words would escape me in the exam room. I almost wrote down notes...

The exam room was scary. Foot skeleton models and all sorts of muscle images of ankles and toes bending ways they should not bend...

The nurse told me to take my right shoe and sock off while she asked me a bunch of questions. Then she told me I didn't need to hug my shoe and could just set it on the floor.

"No need to hug that dirty shoe ma, just set it on the floor. We won't bite."

I wanted to love her but she just called out my nerves!

The doctor came in and was super cool and a runner himself. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he started looking at my foot and squeezing and pushing it and, just like any other time I break down and go to the doctor, all of a sudden nothing hurt.

"Does it hurt when I do this?"

"No."

"Does it hurt when I do this?"

"No."

"What do you feel when I do this?"

(thinking real hard...trying to feel pain...) "Nothing...should that hurt?"

I felt so dumb. I went into a hurried explanation of the "pain" and how it wasn't horrific and I could compensate for it in my foot strike and ignore it mostly and I just didn't want to be maimed and not able to run!

He gave me a sympathetic look and ordered x-rays.

I wanted to hug my shoe again.

I almost smiled for the x-rays. But that would have been silly.

When that was all done, the doctor studied my glowing foot bones, darkening and changing angles, for several minutes, before telling me they were perfect.

And then I felt really really silly. And fake. And like a pansy.

He couldn't find anything wrong!

We talked about several possibilities and how most foot injuries only show up in MRIs. And then he told me to take it easy for a week and prescribed Celebrex.

Celebrex, people.

Like, this Celebrex.




I didn't think much about it until I was leaving his office and remembered what Celebrex was. Actually, all the commercials I saw for it in between cartoon reruns as a teenager came back to me in flash sequence like some haunting dream with slasher music accompaniment.

If that's not a blow to the ego I don't know what is.

So, for the next week, this Kyoo will be "taking it easy" and ingesting old people pills.

And by taking it easy I mean I'm about to go on a hilly, double-digit trail run.

If my darn foot didn't hurt in the doctor's office, then either it's fine or I'm going to make sure it hurts the next time I have to go in there...

And that, my friends, is an extremely lengthy example of why I do not love going to the doctor.

Have a great day :-)


1 comment:

PJ said...

I'll tell you what will make you love going to the doctor, when you're constantly worried about whether your baby is okay because they're too small yet to feel.

Also my sister has had foot pain for YEARS and after trying several foot doctors she ended up in a sports med doc office and he said, "I think it might be neurological." She freaked obviously but went to a neurologist. He discovered the nerves in her calves are damaged from an accident but at least she has an answer now (and she's trying some medication to retrain her nerves).