Today I trooped into the office for several meetings and then left to attend my latest in my clutch of consultants (I didn’t know what the aggregate for “consultant” was. I was leaning towards “pack” but that sounded a bit ferocious. “Pride” made me want to hurl. I veered towards “clutch” at the end.) This new chap is my osteopathic surgeon that I have been referred to courtesy of a two year old ankle sprain while jogging that’s turned into a considerable pain in the ass.
I maybe hadn’t thought it through though, this visit. I parked and strolled in wearing my rebellious cling to summer. Summer has basically started packing its bags here in England, and to be perfectly frank – it isn’t warm here, and the geese flying in their “V” formations all day every day attests to that. But there I was in a summer top, skirt, and strappy heels. Four inch strappy heels to be exact. Yes, it might be frivolous, but at the tender age of 36 I have exploded into a deep and unbelievable love of shoes. I mostly love shoes from here, which I covet and adore (currently coveting these) and which other women stop me and admire my shoes for (like these – people seem to love these. I love those too, my problem is that they’re made by Irregular Choice, who don’t respect the fact that some women have feet so narrow they could be described as two by fours. In my instance, they’re also as long as two by fours…) I can’t believe it! People admire my shoes! And what’s more, I buy almost all of my shoes new off of ebay for a tenth of the price than if I bought them new, because I covet and adore new shoes but don’t have the finances to back this addiction up!
All done with the exclamation points now.
So I clipped into his office wearing a pair of four inch high Carvelas with red straps on them (god I love those shoes).
“Hello,” he said, shaking my hand and looking at my chart. “I see you’re in here for an ankle injury.” He looks down at my feet. “I can see why you’re in here for an ankle injury.”
“No, the ankle injury was because of jogging,”I say, setting my briefcase down and sitting down.
“Do you still run?” he asked.
“Only if being chased,” I responded. He looked at me. I cleared my throat. “Um, no. No more running.”
“Any sports at all?”
“No, I’m a lazy shite,” I replied cheerfully. I then went on to explain the EDS diagnosis and why I no longer do most exercises, rounding it up with “renovating ancient house”, “twin toddlers”, and “full-time job” to explain why I don’t get off my ass more.
He asked me to remove my shoes, which I did, and he then pivoted my ankles this way and that way. I heard the usual: “Wow, you really are flexible!” And: “Joints don’t usually extend that far.” He then asked me to twist this way and that, stand up straight and bend over without bending my knees to place my palms flat on the floor, which is a test for EDS. He had me do them all and I failed them all with flying colors, in which I mean proved to yet another M.D. that I do indeed have hypermobility.
All those years of yoga and I thought I was the bee’s knees. Turns out, my joints were just shagged. It had nothing to do with my inner zen at all.
In the end, I was under the fire of an X-ray and get to go back for an MRI. I start physiotherapy next week for my ankle, he explained, as he wrote out the form. If the physio works then I Get Out of Surgery Free. If it doesn’t work within 3 months then I am going under the knife. He’s keen to repair the damage to the ligaments before osteoarthritis sets in there, too, as it has started to linger in other previously injured joints. If I have surgery, then I will be in an osteo ankle boot for six weeks.
I’m fairly sure that Kurt Geiger does not make cute osteo boots.
I thanked him for his time and said I’d see him soon. I stood.
“So are you clumsy?” he asked as we walked towards the door.
“Very. I’m awful,” I replied. He pulled the physio slip from my hand and wrote “Spatial awareness – ankle” on the form, and handed it back.
I smiled.
Turned.
And ran straight into the wall.
Laurel and sodding Hardy couldn’t have been more slapstick and predictable than that.
He sighed, took the form out of my hands, and crossed out “ankle”, instead writing “Spatial awareness – body” on the form before placing it back in my hands. I thanked him and left, rubbing my nose from where it had made contact with said wall.
Awesome.
-S.
Wait, there’s a WORD for the magic ability NOT to walk into walls?
Fingers crossed the physio works. And walls start showing some respect and get the f**k ou of the way already.
As for shoes, oy. I can’t wear high heels. *sad face*. I treat pretty shoes as art-work in a gallery. I will go look at the pretty, discuss the pretty, sigh over the pretty, and then me and my Converse will troop off to find coffee.
Those coveted shoes are fabulous. Want want WANT!
(I had no inner shoe desires until I read your blog. Then it just appeared. Not sure if I should thank you or not *grins*)
Spatial awareness is the offical term, eh? I fail too.
oh honey, that is so frakkin funny! thank you. and i’m sorry for laughing at your expense.
oh yeah, I don’t get shoes.
I have enormous feet and can never, ever, ever find anything cute for my feet.
trying on shoes is so unappealing to me. nothing is as bad for the self-confidence as trying on shoes. unless we’re trying on clothes, then that’s bad, too.
i have no sense of balance in heels. and since i’m training for a half marathon right now, heels are right out, per my orthopaedic doctor who advises against anything but running shoes while training for any great distance. i heart him for giving me the excuse to not have cute shoes.
Trying not to laugh at the finish, but that is pure Charlie Chaplin right there.
Email Kurt, you never know your luck!
Love Kurt’s shoes too. They have physio for spacial awareness? Don’t tell my GP that, I’ll be referred in two ticks. I’m sure you’ve had lots of experience with scans in this country, but make sure they schedule you in within the first ten days of your month or six weeks or eight weeks, otherwise they send you home for fear of pregnancy. Better than peeing on stick every time I walk into a medical est. but some warning would still have been appreciated.
mmm Irregular Choice….
When I get on an athletic field, my balance and ability to avoid people and things is very good. As soon as I step off the field, I run into bleachers, walls, ditches,… you name it.
Mine’s not “spacial” though, it’s “don’t pay attention-al” : )
Ahhh, spacial awareness. I think I do not have this, either (as the constant bruises I sport can attest).
Shannon–Good luck with the therapy, and I hope it does the trick. It’s a pain in the ass to schedule your life around, but fare better than the knife. I don’t know if you have had an MRI before, but my advice is to take some earplugs. I always had patients complain about claustrophobia–but never about the freaking noise the machine makes. Some places offer earplugs and even music, but not all of them.
As for the shoes, I can only say that they are lovely, but they make my feet hurt just to look at them. Your shoes would kick my shoes’ ass if we had a beauty pageant.
I think it’s okay that I’m laughing. Cos you know, it could just as easily have been me walking flat into a wall. I hope you get a good physio.
Hah! That’s awesome.
I think “gaggle” is the correct term for your collection of consultants.
I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I WILL NOT LAUGH…
Oh, to hell with it. *rotfl*
Okay now, quid pro quo. Managed to split my pants wide open at work last Friday, with nine hours left in my shift and going home to change not being a viable option. Go ahead, laugh it up. It’s okay, I promise.
Damn, I didn’t know you could get therapy for that. Guess I should go see my doctor…
Love those polka dot shoes!!!
good luck with the physical therapy – I had a bit for an injured shoulder and it really does work… (I can say this because I spent months ‘letting it heal itself’ before realizing it wasn’t going to…)
I’m so happy to know there’s another 2X4 footed person out there! If I didn’t have ridiculously long toes, they might be a tad more normal, but hey, they work.
I like Tracy’s “gaggle” suggestion. I was going to offer “murder” (as in crows) but perhaps that was just wishful thinking…
Good luck with the therapy!
I feel guilty, but I chuckled at the part where you ran into the wall. It’s not my fault you’re such a great writer, though! (Ha ha! Back-handed compliment there!)
Well, good luck with the therapy!
Thanks for the chuckle! I thought he was going to try to take your cute shoes from you (since they’re not so good for you) and get cold-cocked.
You just reminded me of the time when they’d built a new radio station in the back of the newsroom for the television station which was part of the group. Naturally, it had a clear glass door. Just as naturally, I ran flat into it— in front of the evening news anchor and half a dozen assorted reporters.
As you say, awesome.
Hi! I haven’t checked in in so long. It looks like everyoen is doing so well. Your twins are getting so big and they are adorable. Glad to see all is well :)
I have the feeling that somewhere out there, there is a website where you can order fashionable covers for casts.
I love those maroon shoes. I’m glad shipping would be too pricey to order from over here, as I wouldn’t otherwise have had the self-restraint not to immediately buy a pair.
hilarious!
Whilst avoiding the packing up of my house I found this:
http://bustedbling.com.au/
Don’t know if they’ll have anything that’ll work but it made me smile :) Oh and if makes you fel any better, I walked in to the door at work today, and whilst i was swearing from the pain I turned round and slammed right into the heavy duty metal shelving. Yep. Klutz doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Hope the physio works. The boot might not be so much fun in the winter and snow. I do my fair share of tripping, running into things, falling off steps, etc-but it is because I’m in a damn hurry all the time.
Love heels, look like an ass in them. I attribute that to my flat feet.
Thanks for the laugh – I hope you didn’t hurt yourself badly. I like “clutch of consultants” because it’s alliterative. And now I’m coveting those shoes too. I’ve wanted the polka dot ones since I first saw the picture.