By Wyatt Earp | April 15, 2010
Okay, I’ll never be as skinny as I was in high school (5’8″ – 130 pounds) but some of my other issues have been rectified. At least temporarily.
Today I had twin appointments, and both saw pretty good outcomes. First, I had to travel to the foot doctor for a follow-up. Yes, I know I didn’t post about the original injury, but long-story-short: I suffered a stress fracture in my left foot. The conventional wisdom is that it was an ice hockey injury, but I never had any trauma, so who knows? The doc put me in a giant stabilizing boot, which made me walk around like Davy Jones all day, and I spent the better part of a month as a cripple.
Today was my follow-up, and the doc took x-rays when I walked through the door. Negative! After talking it over for a few minutes, the doctor came in and said, “You graduated.” The boot could come off, and I was pretty much cured. I am still not allowed to do anything even remotely athletic for a while – which is fine since hockey season is over – but at least I can walk normally again.
An hour later, I came in for my dermatology appointment. The doc said I was due for a full-body cancer screening, so to say I was worried was an understatement. When I settled into the room, the nurse asked me to undress – down to my underwear – and put on one of those fashionable paper gowns. I hate those things because:
1. I am really self-conscious about my disgusting body.
2. I couldn’t get the gown closed in the back.
So, I tried to cinch the thing up before sitting on the exam table, and I heard a “RRRIIIPPP.” Crap. I looked down and saw that the gown split over my right thigh. The way the gown was around me, it looked like one of those 80′s miniskirts with the slit on the side.
(I’ll give everyone a minute to grab the eye bleach. It’s in the top cupboard.)
Now I am sitting uncomfortably in the room when the doctor walks in. He’s a nice, down-to-Earth guy, and we get along really well. He opens the door, looks at the rip and bursts out laughing. I glared at him and said, “If you didn’t skimp on the gowns this wouldn’t happen.”
When he stopped laughing, he started with the screen. He checked top to bottom, front to back. Prognosis: negative! No signs of cancer at all. Sweet. I still have to wear a baseball cap outside and slather on the sunscreen, but at least I am not looking at another operation . . . for now.
All in all, it was a pretty good day.