The Hip Bone Connected to the Foot Bone

Went for a follow up visit with my rheumatologist this week.  Yeah, I have aches and pains, but nothing serious.  I'm telling the truth.  I actually first went months ago just to double-check that nothing was wrong.  I have had the usual back pain for DECADES.  But hey, I can deal with it.  But that's not what I am writing about.

Anyway, I went to the check up.  I always like to arrive a little early so I can get whatever paperwork out of the way.  Always paperwork, no matter how many times I say, "Yes, everything is (exactly) the same as before.  Everything." Then they ask (every single time), "You still have the same insurance?"  Uh, that's part of the "everything" I was referring to.  But that's not what I am writing about.

I finally get called back, about 15 minutes after my appointment time.  I follow the assistant into the exam room.  We sit down, and then she proceeds to ask me a few of the same questions I answered on that paperwork that I arrived early to take care of.  Okay.  And then, to my horror, she asks me, "How much do you weigh?"  People, I just wrote that $%^&";#* down on that paperwork.  Now I had to say it out loud.  Holy cow.  Okay, I survived, but I somehow felt obliged to add, "But I am working on it."  What the hell?!?  Whatever.

Next, I was surprised with a blood drawing.  Oh neato.  I did not expect this.  Yuck.  What I found funny about that whole deal was how securely the nurse wrapped the cotton ball on my arm after she took my vials (gallons) of blood.  I guess it would be safe if I ran a marathon back to my car after the appointment.



It kinda cut off my circulation, if you want to be honest here.  (Look, that is my foot underneath my arm.)

After the blood letting, I waited for the doctor.  And waited. And checked my Instagram account.  And took a few picturse (of course).  And waited.  And posted to my Instagram account.  This is news worthy stuff here.



And waited.



And noticed that no doctor is sitting there yet.


And found a magazine that I assumed is the adult version of the kiddie Highlights magazine? Dang.



But, believe it or not, this is not what I am writing about, either. It's what happened when the doc finally entered the exam room for my appointment.


I was sitting on the end of the table. He asked me how I have been in the last six months. I feel great, yay for me. Then . . . he reached for one of my shoes, so he could check my feet. Oh.No.Not.The.Feet!!! And then he took off the other shoe! It has been a few (many) weeks since my last pedicure. My toenails look yucky, the polish is chipped and even missing on some spots. Geeeeez. But I acted like nothing was awry.  Naturally.

And then, what I had NOT planned for, happened. He needed to check the mobility in my LEGS. (What? I walked into this office just fine. These things work. Don't check.)

Yes, these are the same legs that I haven't shaved in a week (month). Oh.Mah.Gawd. There was no way this guy couldn't notice these things.

This is how I wanted my feet and legs to look.





Unfortunately, this is how I know my feet and legs looked.


I survived. I don't need to go back for another six months. I will shave my legs by then. Or it will be cold enough for socks. We'll see.

Geez.