Really? Yes. Really.

Another long rant from an upset person...
The next chapter in the "Janna's Feet" saga.

Ugh. I called the doctor's office today, because it's been TWO WEEKS since the x-rays, and no one called me about anything.
What they said two weeks ago was that they'd call me as soon as the results arrived. If bone damage was confirmed, we'd proceed with treating it. If the problem was non-bone-related, we'd move on to the next step, which is scheduling an MRI.

So I've been waiting all this time for those results, and hadn't heard anything.

When I called today, the desk person seemed surprised to hear from me, as if they weren't even quite sure who I was.
They put me on hold for a long time.

When they came back, they said the x-ray results were "stable", so they'd decided there really wasn't any need to call me back at all.

"Stable? ... Meaning what, exactly?" I said.

"You have a stable degenerative disease," she explained. "It's no different than it was before."

"Yes, it IS," I emphasized. "It's getting worse. I can barely walk. I hobble around on two canes. The pain medication isn't working. We need to pursue this."

"....Okay?" She said, unsure of what exactly to do.

"We need to pursue this," I repeated. "We can't just ignore it. It's getting worse."

"....Okay?" She repeated. "Well, I can tell the doctor if you want, but she won't be able to see you for quite a few days."

"Wasn't anyone going to call me and tell me about the results?" I asked. "How did I just fall through the cracks like that?"

"Well," she tried explaining, "If the results show that there isn't really a problem, our policy is that we DON'T call the person back."

My mouth hung open in disbelief. "I was told I'd receive a call one way or the other."

"...Okay?" She repeated.

"If the x-rays really showed no problem, we were supposed to move onto the next stage, which involved an MRI."

"...Okay?"

I sighed, realizing I was getting absolutely nowhere. "When's the earliest I can make an appointment?"

"Next week... January 6th.... 9:30."

"I'll take it. Let's please do that."

So... here we go.
Again.

(*ahem*) Yeah... ok.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YDTfEhChgw

Also, my head hurts, but let's just complain about one thing at a time.

It's been over a week, and I still don't have my x-ray results yet.

Still hobbling around on the cane, realizing much to my chagrin that the new pain medication doesn't really work.

What's really going to annoy me is if they call me and say "Good news, the results didn't show anything, so you're just fine!"

Obviously everything isn't fine; this hurts so much it's apparent that something is wrong.  I just need them to identify what it is.
.

Good thing he's four tables away, I guess...

Direct quote from the little kid sitting about four tables away at McDonalds:

"MMMmmmoooooommmm!  Mom! I just farted!  I just faaaarrrted!!"

Additional quote from him, a few minutes later:

"Moommmm!  Y'smell that?"

Update... in case any of you wondered how it went

Oooookay. For any of you who read my angst-filled ankle post and wondered how the doctor appointment went, here's the update.

They saw how miserable I was, and they listened to everything I said.
The first step was x-rays. (Both feet, plus right ankle).

I just left the hospital a few hours ago.

The front desk saw me struggling on my two canes and immediately made sure I had somebody to take me to the x-ray room in a wheelchair.
X-rays were a bit awkward but they went all right, I guess.
When they were done, they wheelchaired me back to the front entrance, and I hobbled back to the car with my canes.

The doctor realized that my previous anti-inflammatory medication wasn't working at all, so she called in a prescription for something different.
(I haven't picked it up yet; it isn't ready. Believe me, I'm anxious to try it out.)

The next step is to wait for the x-ray results.
If my problem involves muscle instead of bone, I'll need to have an MRI.
If that's the case, I'll have to drive down to Indiana for the special "Open MRI" I used last year. (The place where they found the enchondroma tumor in my left fibula).

For now, I guess I'm content to wait and see what they say.
I'll get my new pain meds (as soon as they're ready) and take them while it all gets figured out.

I'll keep basking in the glow of free public WiFi, and hobbling with at least one cane to get my free refills. This way I can keep posting updates for those of you who actually read down this far.

If you see me there, please come over and say hi.
Bonus points if you bring cookies.

Me and my ankle

I posted this to Facebook, and figured I might as well post it here too.
Bear with me.

Probably no one will take the time to read this except my close friends, but I still need to write this so I can vent and cry a little.

My ankle's gotten so much worse in the past few weeks. I've had problems with it ever since childhood, but nothing even remotely as painful as this.

When I had it x-rayed last year, the doctor told me it was likely a form of club-foot that I've had my entire life. Mom didn't take me to a doctor for it when I was young, so it never got treated. (There are various reasons I'm not able to have surgery for it, which would take too long to explain right now.) They told me it would keep getting worse as the years went by.... they were right.

It hurts so bad it feels like I actually broke something or ripped something.

I mentioned it the past two times I went to the doctor, but they didn't do anything. I'm not even sure they wrote it down. It was like "Meh, let's just ignore it and see if it goes away."

At the concert last Friday I had to wear my usual leg brace, plus I used my cane to hobble around. Embarrassing to be on stage and have hundreds of people seeing that.

The weekend was so bad I could hardly get out of bed.

In the privacy of my own home, I have to have a cane in each hand just to make it possible to move from room to room without too much pain. When I move down the hallway like this, I feel like some giant four-footed animal... or maybe one of those big robot things from Star Wars (Imperial Walkers).
The only thing that makes walking remotely bearable is the canes, plus wrapping the leg brace extra tight so my ankle can't wobble around too much. If it wobbles or bends at all, it's excruciating.

I called the doctor's office this morning and explained to them that I need to make an appointment right away to get this diagnosed and treated.

My appointment is tomorrow morning (Tuesday Dec 16th) at 11:00am.

I hope they take me seriously this time.
If they ask "So, how long has this been going on?" I will make sure to say "Y'know, I've mentioned it the past TWO times I've been in. Look in the book and see when my two previous appointments were. I told you about it at least twice, but nobody did anything to help."

In addition to the right ankle issues, I dropped a shampoo bottle on my LEFT foot and hurt that so bad I might have broken some of the little bones in there.
There's no "good" foot to step on any more.

I'm tired of it hurting just to walk twenty feet away.
In the middle of the night, when I have to get up to go to the bathroom, I've actually laid there and cried for awhile, dreading the inevitability of having to get up and hobble to the toilet with a cane in each hand so I can pee.

I usually try to be a peaceful, fun, good-natured, semi-humorous person who is pleasant company, and most of my friends have no idea just how bad things have gotten.

I can't handle this for much longer.

Because apparently the gas station needed a sign...

Y'know, whatever this sign is saying, it's probably a good idea to pay attention.

I know it's around here somewhere....