The rest of the appointment, not so good. The surgeon came in, picked up my foot, and used his thumb to press—hard—into the precise spot where I have had the pain for the last 25 years. And it was so excruciatingly painful that I nearly lept off the table and through the roof. I told him that the location & intensity was EXACTLY the same as before. And it clearly wasn't from the surgery itself... he had cut in from a different angle; the incision was not over this spot.
His response? "Hmm. That should have worked. I'm not sure why you still have pain... Well, let's see you back in two weeks and see how you are."
I was dumbfounded. This from the guy who talked me into surgery by telling me he had COMPLETE confidence that this would CERTAINLY clear up the problem and alleviate the pain for good. I sure wish I had recorded our original conversation. He said the pain would be gone. He never said anything like "...but there's always a chance that..." or did anything to prepare me for the possibility that this might not work.
And for his false confidence, I get to wear a boot for a month, doing none of my usual fun activities and losing all my conditioning. Probably missing the four upcoming races I've signed up for in the next two months, which I've really been looking forward to. I can't go Scuba diving on Saturday or rock climbing on Sunday with my friends. Hell, I can barely walk! All for nothing. I might as well have had him implant a third eye on my forehead. That would have been much more useful and way cooler.
|from "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?"|
If there is a positive to this... I'm not seeing it.
But I will say that I work with a great group of people. When Amy heard my news, she did this great drawing for me and presented me with a trio of tarts: lemon, cherry, and chocolate.