Dr. D took x-rays and confirmed the diagnosis. He threw in some bone spurs for extra fun.
Here is where things took an ugly turn. He said this: "I want you to get some Crocs." Lord. Have. Mercy.
Talk about karma. Do you know how gleefully, how relentlessly, I have mocked Crocs?
He clarified that he wants me to buy the Croc slides, like these:
Craig said, "I can't ever speak to you again."
Ryan said, "I would rather have my feet cut off than to wear Crocs."
Other co-workers looked at me sadly and passed along their heartfelt condolences.
So, yeah. I haven't ordered the buggers yet. I need a little more time for this to sink in. In the mean time, Dr. D. recommended an over-the-counter orthotic that I can try (I purchased a pair and have been using them, but he has a recommendation that maywork better). He wants me to check with my insurance to see if custom orthotics are covered. He also started me on Meloxicam (an anti-inflammatory). And finally, he gave me some exercises to do (some of which I was already doing on my own). Before I left, he had an assistant wrap my feet to give arch support. I'm wondering if I can try to do this on my own because the pain has diminished considerably just from the wrapping.
I have to go back in two weeks to see how things are going. It sounds like my career as a marathoner is out the window. And I guess my days of wearing cute shoes are over, too. Man, this bites.
Let me know if you need my address so you can send me a sympathy card.
|Even Gretchen said she won't be seen with me anymore if I buy Crocs.|