Tag Archives: doctor

Stitches

31 Jan

Yesterday, my podiatrist ripped the stitches out of my foot.  Nope, I am not exaggerating.  I was so excited for this two week milestone.  I have never had stitches (except inside my eye which is way different) so didn’t really know what to expect. I mentioned my exciting stitches-removal appointment to quite a few friends, who I darn well know have had stitches, and stitches removed, and none of them batted an eyelash.  Guess what…my friends are actually part of a conspiracy.  They did not want me to know stitches being ripped from your skin hurts like h-e-double hockey sticks (as my kiddos used to say before they were brazen teenagers who would utter all epitaphs and more right to my face).

I was calm, collected, excited even, to have these nasty, irritating stitches removed from my foot.  But when the nurse started cutting, then pulling with tweezers, I was getting agitated when they didn’t just slip out of my skin like I anticipated.   Yank, “OUCH,” yank, “OUCH,” yank.  My doctor came in and said, “Ya, sometimes it works better if you wrap it around and then pull.”   I think this is a bad dream.  Wrap what around?  Pull what?  That cannot be my foot they are talking about.  “OUCH,”  this time, I actually said it out loud.

I am not one to verbally acknowledge pain, so this surprises even me.  And…then I say it again!  Holy cow.  Even the doctor cannot get this stitch out.  He comments, “Oh, that one is trying to embed itself.”  He is calm and nonchalant and continues to pull and tug.  “OUCH.”  I sit up and watch.  Stupid, Peg Leg.  Blood spurts.  Gross.  Finally stitch pulls out…disgusting feeling.  And doctor goes on with the appointment.  He smiles, “You can get it wet now, just make sure to wrap it afterward.”  I am thinking of a nice long, soapy shower and then I realize, who cares if I can get it wet because I still can’t stand on the Peg Leg without the boot.  Ugh.  More showers with the trash bag and packing tape.

Up and down, up and down

26 Jan

Sorry to disappoint, but no trash bag was needed (although I did pack one in my purse).   The rain let up for both our entrance…more on this in a minute…and our exit from the doctor.  In fact, upon exiting, my pal spotted a little trolley they drive around, like at Disneyland only without any Mickey Mouse stickers, to help old, disabled people get to their cars and my friend actually wanted us to get on it!!  We did qualify with my boot, but I  have some standards.

After parking in a disabled spot with my flashy red placard, we ambled up to the medical building with the same numbers I found on Google for the doctor’s office.  Up we went in the elevator to the fifth floor in search of suite  502.  But, there is no suite 502 in the building.  Seriously.  501, 503, 511, 500, you get the idea.  No 502.  After calling the office, we find out that the office is in the adjacent building.  Down we go, out to the sidewalk, into the next lobby (I am now over my allotted 15 minutes up on my peg leg), into the elevator and up to the fifth floor.  There is no suite 502.  This is not a joke and I am now late for my appointment and my poor friend, who is NOT a morning person, is looking at me with complete and utter disbelief.

I call the office again to find out we are now in the correct building but the suite number is 350.  We get on the elevator to go down to the third floor, relieved we are not crazy and this office does actually exist, laughing at how ridiculous this has been. Then the elevator goes up not down, but up. Yep, up again. To the sixth floor.  Finally, we head down  to the  third floor.  Office located.  Don’t ever trust Google and know for a fact that suite 502 does not exist in Orange County in any medical building.  It does not exist.

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