Hey, Foot Doc, YOU'RE FIRED!

Good day to all!

Before I begin my rant on the state of the American Health Care System as it pertains to my foot, can we acknowledge how hard it was for me to find a meme with the words "You're Fired" that did NOT involve the current president?

Thank you.

Now then, on to my rant.

So last week I went to my podiatrist for a check up. After almost six weeks of Franken Boot and treatment by PPTB, it was time to check in with the doctor.  No fake names here, because I feel the public must be warned against bad medicine.

My history (this time around) with Dr. Tracy Coulter is as follows:

First appointment:  Sent to X-ray immediately without more than a couple questions as to what kind of pain I was feeling.  ("The arch of my foot hurts.")

After a glance at the X-ray, she actually looked at my foot, touched it, had me stand on it, and then said she knew exactly what it was, that it was a tendon, not a bone.

Could have done that in six minutes, (which, by the way, is the exact amount of time she's spent with me at each of my appointments), without the cost of the X-rays.

Told me to wear a boot, didn't bother to tell me to get a lift for the other foot, had to find that out on my own AFTER my hips started hurting.

Sent me to PT, which was fine. I felt things were starting to get better. Went in to have her look at it.

She showed up 24 minutes late for the appointment.  It was supposed to be a ten minute appointment at 2:30.  Her check in desk assured me she was not running behind.  She showed up 24 minutes late, without apology or explanation.  

She then asked if I'd gone to PT. I said yes. She spent two minutes (I timed her) looking at the computer records and then admitting that I had, indeed, gone.  Basically treated me like a liar.

In the remaining four minutes of her precious time, she poked my ankle, asked if it hurt. Of course it did, she JABBED MY ANKLE.  

She told me to schedule an MRI.  She spent more time putting on gloves on both hands than she spent actually examining my foot.

So on Tuesday of this week I went and got an MRI.  

On Wednesday, her nurse called with the results.  The MRI showed a slight tear, which we were expecting.  Then she read me Dr. Coulter's Notes.  Here they are:

Because she did not improve with walking boot and PT, she could try a brace, but still continue with PT.
Otherwise she has to consider surgery to address.

Very definitive results and thoughts indeed.  Glad I'm paying her for this. Here's the thing:  How do we know the tear isn't improving?

Baby boot: 

They billed my insurance $99 for this thing which is basically an elastic sock with no toes. I have several pairs of those I got online for about $10.  I also have about six miles of ACE bandages in my medicine closet. If those worked, I wouldn't have needed a podiatrist in the first place.

The nurse who called me told me I should come up to the Sussex office to pick up the "brace" (25 minute drive as opposed to the closer office which is ten minutes) and get there before 2:30 because Dr. Coulter was gone for the week and she, the nurse was leaving at 2:30.  ( I work until 2)

So I raced up to Sussex yesterday to get this brace that was going to help since I hadn't shown improvement.  Still, how would she know if what she saw was an improvement??  She took X-rays first, then sent me to PT, then did an MRI...that's...what's the word...BACKWARDS?  I mean, the minute she decided it was not a bone, shouldn't she have schedule an MRI to get a baseline measure of the injury and then decide if I was improving or not?

Especially since her grand total time of actually looking at my foot is 12 minutes over two appointments.

So now I'm in what I call the "Baby Boot." But ponder this:  I asked the nurse if I was supposed to where BB INSTEAD OF Franken Boot or in addition to.  Her answer?

"Whatever you think works best.  I don't know how much pain you're in."

Isn't that sort of the problem? Not just with this doctor and her staff, but with the whole system?  Run tons of expensive tests, don't listen to or trust the patient, and never, ever, find out how much pain they're in.  Take time to put on gloves but don't take time to fully examine the foot once the gloves are on.

And hey, if you're not sure...dump the patient off to surgery rather than spend time explaining anything.

I don't have a medical degree.  I have a BS in Elementary Education, which means I can teach first graders how to spell their names and do basic addition.  But I didn't need a medical degree to diagnose my progress yesterday. Instead, I did the one foot test. And I stood on one foot without crushing pain.

Then I walked down a flight of stairs, in the normal manner, not sideways like I've been doing for the last six months.  And my foot didn't scream in pain.

So...I'm guessing that I have, indeed, improved. Which I could have told her, had she asked me that question last week instead of jamming her finger into my ankle and asking if that hurt.

So, since Dr. Coulter is out of town, and her nurse has left my medical choices up to me, here's my plan:

1) Fire Dr. Coulter.

2) Go to a couple more Pt sessions with PPTB because...well...he's pretty. Also, because he's the one professional in this scenario who has actually been helpful and I trust his opinion.

3) Continue wearing Franken Boot outside the house with Baby Boot underneath because that seems to feel good and wear Baby Boot and a normal shoe in the house for the same reason.

4) Live my life as a normal human.

I used to think the American Health Care system was good, solid, and that it was the insurance companies who were the problem, and that the doctors and nurses were doing their level best to operate within a system that tied their hands and limited their time.  But I'm starting to think maybe there are doctors out there who simply don't give a crap and are more interested in ordering tests than actually talking to their patients. This is a new feeling for me.  I don't like it.

I am, however, laughing about it. I do enjoy a good, soul cleansing rant.  

Best Mother's Day Gift EVER???

Good morning!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you moms and moms to be out there.  I know Skippy and Peaches are thinking of me today...especially when I open their doors and yell, "GET UP" in a few minutes. It's my favorite time of day, when I communicate with my children on a Sunday morning.  "GET UP AND OUT OF BED!"

Anyway...

Some say making other people laugh is the greatest gift a person can give. If that's true, then my husband is the Santa Claus of Mother's Day because boy howdy did I laugh, thanks to him.  

We were eating dinner in the living room, kids were both at work.  Hubby made beer can chicken, potatoes and asparagus wrapped in bacon on the grill.  Yep, one of my favorite meals EVER.  (Don't know what beer can chicken is?  Well, you take a whole chicken and an open can of beer.  Make the chicken SIT on the can, and then set the whole thing on the grill. Yes, the name is pretty self explanatory.) 

So we're sitting there, eating, and Jude and Tacocat, two of our four cats were sort of standing, front paws on the footstool, watching Hubby eat.  This isn't unusual.  Cats are curious.  They are also always hungry.  And we always eat in the living room. So it's a general rule that at least one or two of the beasts are going to be extremely interested in what we're eating.  This time around, two of them are on their back feet, front paws on the footstool, watching Hubby eat.

Hubby lets out a good, solid belch. Since I turned 40 we've become a family of wildly impolite belchers.  I used to try and hold it in, but there's very little more satisfying than an excellent belch. The Romans had something with that.  Anyway, Hubby lets out a belch and Jude, our very dignified looking cat startles and falls over Tacocat.  Jude recovers his dignity, as cats do, immediately, and hops up on the footstool as if falling on Tacocat had nothing to do with Hubby's belch and everything to do with his plan to get on the footstool and closer to the food.

It's at that point that I lost it.  I started laughing harder than I've laughed in several months. It's just a dumb thing, a cat getting startled and falling over.  My four idiot beasts do it all the time.  But for some reason, this time hit me as the funniest thing I'd seen in ages.

Hubby looked at Jude, and then he set down his plate.  He took Jude's face in his hands and he said, "Well congratulations, Jude.  We just made the blog."

So thank you to my belching husband and my easily startled cat.  Thank you for making me laugh so hard I had to lie down.  Thank you for what might be one of the best Mother's Day gifts even!