Flashes of Panic

So, the doctor isn’t a fan of ESWT. “There aren’t any long-term studies,” she tells me. “You could go, spend $3,000 that’s not covered by your insurance, and have the problem recur in a year.”

She mentions surgery. I grimace. She adds that that would be a last resort… after a year or so. I add, mentally: Another year. She refers to “jogging.” This is not, in itself, a bad thing, but it does mean she doesn’t really understand what I’m talking about when I talk about running.

She thinks there is a rupture and/or adhesion of the plantar fascia. I’m not sure I understand what an adhesion is. She gives me an order for an ultrasound at the local hospital, to get a better look at the “soft tissue.” If the ultrasound is inconclusive, we’ll try an MRI. I haven’t figured out what she plans on suggesting based on the results of these tests.

It may be irrelevant, though. The hospital for which she gave me the paper doesn’t do ultrasounds on feet. (Just the more obvious applications, I suppose.) I’ll either need the doctor to intervene with the hospital, or send me to another hospital. Except she’s not in the office today. Nobody is.

I leave voice mail, and head for the pool.

Update: I can go to a hospital in Springfield, at a very odd (late) hour next week. I assume this is so I get a technician who understands feet. The whole thing of having ultrasound on my feet is making me identify, just a little bit, with Zeus.

Now playing: Into The Great Wide Open from Into The Great Wide Open by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers