Dr. Feelgood

Some people think I don't go to the doctor when something ails me because I'm a tough kind of a girl. I'm sorry to have to admit that it's because I have had reaffirmed for me over the years on a regular basis that I am the queen of the vague diagnosis and subsequent vague treatment.

This Saturday, our league decided to do a land workout instead of a skating one on Sunday. We ran, did lunges, squat-walked, skipped, ran backwards, and sprinted. We stretched before and after and I felt fine (even to the point of thinking I hadn't gotten that good of a workout). Then I woke up Sunday with sore legs. I thought, "Okay, so it was tougher than I thought." I started to do chores around my place and, when I'd take more then five steps in a row, I felt like someone was hurling a rusty pickaxe through the heel of my foot.

I was beginning to Doctor Google home treatments when I remembered that I am something of an athlete. This was no time to self-diagnose. Plus, my foot really hurt like a bitch when I walked on it.

I went to an urgent treatment center, where I waited for three hours to be diagnosed with absolutely nothing. I was instructed to load up on ibuprofin and told to ice the foot when it hurt. The doctor seemed so intrigued by the fact that I played roller derby that she seemed mostly unable to comprehend that whatever I had done to my foot had not actually occurred whilst skating. So I'm sitting here with a still-ouchy foot and and an economy-size bottle of generic advil.

This is why I don't go to doctors. The only time I've ever been conclusively diagnosed with anything was when I was pregnant with Baby Girl, and even then, I was certain the doctor was going to tell me, "We're pretty sure you're pregnant, but it really could be a variety of things. Why don't you go on home and take it easy for 8 or 9 months and we'll see if it clears up on its own."