You know those weeks where every single medical problem you have attacks you all at once? Yeah, me too. That pretty much sums up what the last 10 days or so have been like for me.
I’ll spare you a litany of my ills, except, have I mentioned here before that, because the Universe is apparently exploring the concept of irony with my own personal life as its classroom, the medicine I take to manage my fibro pain causes severe swelling, which in turn causes severe pain? (Oh, and Universe? SO NOT AMUSING.)
So I went to see my fibro doctor and begged him to please, please, OH PLEASE do something to relieve the ping pong sized edema in my ankles. I was thinking of something along the lines of possibly draining something out, or injecting some kind of pain medicine in, but do you know what he said?
“Well, some support hose would probably help you with that.”
And then he Kept. On. Saying. It.
Until finally I said, “Look-every time you say that, I just get this image of a 98-year-old grandma, hunched over, hobbling along with a cane.” Which was my polite way of saying, “Hell no! That will not be happening in this lifetime!”
And then, in what I can only assume was his genuine desire to help me find some relief, he said, “Well you know, they can measure you now so that you can get an exact, customized fit.”
And I thought, “Um, what?!”
Was that supposed to be some kind of selling point for me?
Because I’m sorry to report that, if it was, it failed. Miserably.