The Good Doctor

Arrived home at a reasonable hour last night.

My foot hurts. It had some swelling, which prevented me from placing my little toe on the ground, but was also very tender, which meant I walked funny and all my ankle and leg got hurty, too.

This morning, I was able to walk mostly “normally” on carpet and with my slippers on. Mmmmmm, slippers.

I chose to forgo the walk to school, as much as I needed it after hours and hours and hours of sitting in a car, and just went for my follow up doctors appointment to determine the current state of my head.

“Anything else you want to chat about?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“My foot. I wasn’t drunk or anything,” I continued as I pulled my shoe off and removed the newly adhered bandaid.

“Hrm,” she says, gazing at the wound with special doctor glasses on. She did not bring out her stethescope, so figured I wasn’t terminal.

“It looks like its healing ok, but the bit in the middle hasn’t attached itself like the sides have. It looks like you did a good job on it. How’s your tetanus immunisation?”

Which lead to much “ummmmm” …

She walks out the door, comes back in, says “which arm” and while I’m saying “Um, no, I don’t like needles” she jabs me in the left and tells me my tetanus booster is now up to date and I’ll be right to stand on rusty nails for the next 10 years or so.

Oh, goody.

Then she gives me a brand new bandaid and says “Yep, good idea to keep it covered with one of these for a bit.”

I hope I can claim bandaids on Medicare.

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