Just call me Doctor…
About 18 months ago I came down with this horrible bout of tennis elbow. Now, if you know anything about me at all, you know that I don’t play tennis. The closest I come to being that active was when I fell off the curb and broke my leg. So, when I went to the ortho and said “my elbow and arm hurt” and he took one look, touched in right in the exact spot that it hurt and declared me afflicted with “tennis elbow”, it was more than a bit comical.
Several weeks after that my husband was complaining of a pain in his forearm. The left one, just like mine. So, I looked at it, pushed on the same spot that the good doctor had pushed when I was diagnosed and my husband yelped like a baby. Tennis Elbow I said, you have tennis elbow.
Fast forward to May of this year. I was having surgery on my left leg for the break that occurred in…oh yea..in January. And, my husband starts to complain about this pain in his heel. I listened, I offered advil, he continued to complain and took no medication. He would start to move around in the mornings or after being on the sofa for an extended period of time and start to yelp in pain.
Finally, I explained to him that he obviously had plantar fasciitis and he looked at me and said, “UH?” as if I was the dumb one. GRRRR Monday, he finally caved and went to see my ortho. I made him an appointment at the same time I would be seeing him for my follow up from surgery. And, the good doc investigated the problem and declared, “you have plantar fasciitis”.
And, I took my medical degree and walked out the door…with 35 dollars less in my pocket. Go figure.
