Feet @ MindSay

First things first - I am not a masochist.  But man was today a doozy!

As some of you who may live in areas with a high percentage of federal employees, tis the season for spending your Flexible Spending Account (or FSA).  This is a nifty little plan that allows you to put aside pre-tax money out of your paycheck for medical expenses or daycare.  The one caveat is that it is a use it or lose it program.  So a lot of people spend the better part of December figuring out how much money is left in their account and spend their money to use it, rather than lose it.  Most of the optical shops around here in DC have signs in their windows encouraging people to buy glasses with their FSA money.  Or drug stores have sales encouraging people to stock up on certain over the counter meds that qualify.  This year, Shiny and I budgeted more than we have in the past for our FSA, and now we find ourselves with lots of medical appointments in order to use the money in our account before the spending year is closed.

So today I had three doctors appointments.  The first was quite innocuous.  I went to "ladytown" as Shiny puts it for a quick shot. Easy peasy.  The second was just pure torture.

I was diagnosed with Plantar Fasciitis in my right heel.  The same foot that I also have arthritis in my ankle, so walking around sometimes can be very painful if I'm not wearing the correct shoes.  I finally got off my behind to see a Podiatrist about the pain, and she prescribed some anti-inflammatory meds and stretching exercises, which she scared me in to doing.  (Shiny and I referred to her as the "Fasciitis Fascist.")  Three weeks later, the pain is still there, but not as bad as it was during my first appointment.  But, since it's still there, she decided the next course of action was a cortisone steroid shot directly into my heel at the exact point of pain.  Sweet honey on the rock, this was excruciating!   More painful than childbirth.  It was so bad that she couldn't give me the injection all at once.  I was trying so hard not to scream and curse, but she said to let it all out, as I was the last patient of the day.  Man did I curse like a mother f!*&#ing sailor.  Then I cursed some more.  Then I started crying.  It was that bad.  Like being stabbed repeatedly with a really sharp knife in a spot where you are already in pain.  I was afraid to walk out of there, but she reassured me that it would kick in and I would feel better.  I told her I will NEVER do that again, so if I'm still experiencing pain next time I go back, we'll explore alternate options of treatment.  Damn skippy!

My next appointment (after stopping for a sympathy Frappuccino and to get Shiny a super cool Chanukah gift), was at the Ophthalmologist.  What with the FSA money to spend, it was time to get my eyes checked and get a prescrip for new glasses.  I last got new glasses on Sept. 9, 2001.  Luckily, my eyes haven't changed significantly since then.  The Ophthalmologist said I didn't even really need new glasses if I didn't want them.  Ah - FSA - yes I do.  And he understood.  But then they did all the tests to look inside your eyes to check for glaucoma and floaters, etc.  So not only could I now not walk straight, but I was seeing bright big light blobs in my eyes from the testing.  What was I thinking?

Did I mention that on Thursday, I'm getting two wisdom pulled at the dentist? 

So you see, I'm not a masochist.  I just have to use up my FSA money...

my husband has always been a foot shuffler. as a teen his mom was frequently admonishing him to "pick up your feet" In colorado we had some sort of fake fiber carpeting and he would build up static electricity from the shuffles and when he kissed me it was electric. someties he would remember to "discharge" by touching the wall before kissing me. The in montgomery we mostly had wood floors and I bought him new slippers with leather bottoms so the static was no longer an issue. well those slippers finally fell apart and he bought new ones. grey suede sheepskin lined slippers with a rubber sole - I loved that album - but i must stay on track.

 

well the shuffle now makes a low hissy grating noise as he shuffles through 3800 square feet of carpeted and rugged floors. no electricity but he is actualy causing bumps in the carpets on which I have tripped twice and so here I am after a life of marriage saying "pick up your feet" I was prepared to become MY mother, but I didn't think I would morph into his too. I am about to either duct tape the soles or  buy him another pair grrrrrrrr.

 

and thanks again shrub for being our prez. jesus !  and hillary can't get a lackey to leave a tip? and O "might" write the dying guy a note? oy

            One day last week, on the bus ride from Brewster to Minges, a young man approached all the young lady passengers individually in an attempt to find a lunch date.  Unless he found success after I had disembarked, he ate alone.

            My initial reaction was that he had a hell of a nerve, but upon reflection I had to admire his spunk.  He took “if at first you don’t succeed...” to a whole new level.  Perhaps if I had been as bold, I would’ve had my first date before I was 27 (Boy, was it awkward when her dad drove us to the movies).

            I’m old fashioned I guess.  I just wouldn’t go up to a complete stranger and ask her to lunch.  She’d probably slap me, and I know my wife would.

            I guess young people are more liberal than I was at their age.  Take clothing, for example. I looked like a white bread dork with my plaid shirts and freshly-pressed khakis, but the other day I saw a guy in a ragged T-shirt, shabby shorts, and flip-flops sitting on the floor outside a classroom.  I took pity on him and stuck a dollar in the cup beside him before realizing it was full of coffee.  When I found out he was a professor, I really felt like a putz.

            A word on flip-flops, and sandals in general.  Few things look as ridiculous on a grown man as sandals.  No male over the age of 10 should ever wear them.  Why?  Men have ugly feet.  I know.  I’m a man, I have ugly feet, and I don’t wear sandals.  No one wants to look down and cast their eyes on a set of hideous toes that look like hairy Mexican sausages.

            Young ladies, on the other hand, can pull off the whole sandal thing, provided they have cute toes.  Ugly toes of both sexes should remain covered at all times.

            Speaking of young ladies, take it from the Old Guy, girls: a little mystery is a lot more exciting than miles of skin.  Those nice little nothings you’re almost wearing can make it hard for some of us to concentrate on what the professor is saying.  I mean, yeah, I’m happily married, but I’m not dead...and I really need my education.  If you’ve got it, flaunt it at the beach.  I don’t go there.

            And for anyone out there who doesn’t have it...please don’t flaunt it.  ’Nuff said.

            Speaking of flaunting...to the young man with his pants pulled down past his cheeks giving everyone in the Financial Aid office a clear view of his plaid undies last Wednesday: you’re in college.  You should be able to dress yourself by now.

            Now for a word about facial hair.  What’s up with all these mutton chop sideburns I’m seeing all over campus?  Elvis left the building a long time ago, fellows.  And if you’re going to have a beard, have the wherewithal to grow a mustache to go along with it.  Abraham Lincoln and C. Everett Koop are the only non-Amish who could ever pull that off, and let’s face it, they looked ridiculous too.

            While I’m at it, let’s talk about the bathroom for a minute.  Obviously I’m speaking only to the gentlemen now, but some of it may apply to the ladies.

            Flush.  That’s all I ask.  Ever hear of backsplash, guys?  Think about it.  Yeah, that’s right.  You don’t want it to happen to you, and I sure don’t want it to happen to me.  You flush at home, so do your fellow students the courtesy of flushing at school.  Soap and hot water are right behind you.

            I don’t mean to be critical.  My intent more than anything is to make you laugh, however, I also want to make you think.  I’m a firm believer in personal responsibility and in putting one’s best foot forward...preferably in a real shoe.

 

© 2007 by J.D. Lewis