Wicked Urge!
Monday, January 18th, 2010Sometimes, I get the wicked urge to make an appointment with my former podiatrist. To just tell the scheduling clerk something banal like “I’m having trouble with callouses”, and then watch the podiatrist’s face when I unveil my new feet. O.K. - they’re not “new”. They are officially almost 15 months old, but the urge to use them as a “teaching tool” grows ever stronger!
It’s not the podiatrist’s fault. When years of Rheumatoid Arthritis had dislocated my toes and set them all at weird angles that shoes could no longer encase without severe pain, I sought her out. She was the daughter of a trusted physician, newly set up in practice with her surgery-schooled husband. I received sympathy, custom orthotics to ease my stride (which they didn’t) and, eventually, braces attached to both shoes with knee-cuffs to minimise my spectacular falls (which they did). Pain and mobility were still issues, however, so I kept pushing the young pair for a better fix. At my last visit to their office, I was told that the only solution was “drastic surgery” that “shouldn’t be considered until I was older”. That made little sense to me at the time (it was 2004 or 2005); if it was drastic surgery, shouldn’t we do it when I was younger and better able to recover? They wouldn’t answer that, so I didn’t visit them anymore!