The Great Wuss Weekend

I like Dr. Stone. He's fun, knows when to bribe you with humor and when to be absolutely serious, and he employs his mother and his sister in his front office. I have his cell phone number for emergencies, and I can make an appt and get it whenever I need it. He meets you at the ER when he sends you there, and he isn't afraid to order tests when he thinks you need them. He's also very willing to take the low key approach when it can be used, and tells you the straight scoop when it is required. All in all, we love the man. He's intentionally the old-fashioned type of physician who knows his patients well. We lovingly call him "Sir Stone" here at home. Doc to his face. :)

Recently I've had the opportunity to see him on several occasions. No, not because he's so wonderful but because he insisted on it. *sigh* Some Drs can be such a pain in the tush, can't they? :) Anyway, it seems my dearest Laura caused high blood pressure which didn't go away after she was born. He's had me on blood pressure meds for the past few years and recently, due to a few episodes of fainting and such - no big deal, really! - he reduced my dose and then took me off of it. Now, I'm sure just because he thinks I'm such a wonderful, obedient patient, he has me in for bp checks just to be sure things are staying where they need to be. Yeah, he's agree with that statement... maybe.

And then there's my toe...

It seems my toenail was compromised/injured/cracked/something a few months ago and a bacterial infection ensued. He gave it some fancy name and sent me home with antibiotics and the following direct order: (and I quote) "If this doesn't clear up in the next week or so, you need to call Mary (his mother, the receptionist) and make an appt to have your toenail removed. Remind her that you'll need another round of antibiotics prior to that so we'll call that in for you." I think my mind was having trouble wrapping around that directive so I failed to follow up with any questions, determined that it wouldn't happen to me. I obediently went home to take my meds and let them do their job.

Only they didn't do it so well...

A few weeks later I knew the toenail was doomed. I knew that when I returned to the office for my monthly bp check up, the toenail would be given the death sentence. I'd be hung out to dry so to speak, painfully put out to pasture. So I avoided going. Mature, isn't it? Yeah, I thought so, too. But then, I did finally come around. When I knew that it couldn't be put off any longer, and it was close to killing me with pain, I made an appt and went back.

Dr. Stone innocently greeted me and took me back to his office. I'm sure in his mind we were here just for a bp checkup but I knew differently. I knew that my toe was about to go through pain and I wasn't thrilled. We sat down to discuss the bp and I updated him on my wonderful readings from home. Then I brought up the toe. He got serious and took me in to the examination room. Where that darn bp cuff is kept. I was a bit overwhelmed with toenail trauma so calm didn't describe my condition. My bp showed it. We carried on about whether I was really taking my bp at home or substituting my husband's arm. I promised him no other arms were harmed in the pursuit of positive pressure readings and promised to bring in my cuff when I returned. And then he got down to the business of checking my toe.

I'm sure he's well versed in toedom but I must admit that I had to question it. His "Your toenail has to go" statement was matched with my "Are you sure you know what you are talking about? After all 'toenail specialist' isn't listed on that certificate over there. Perhaps you are mistaken. Perhaps it just needs to be told it's doing an good job of protecting my toe and it will get back with the program." My statement was matched by his rolling eyes followed by "It has to go." We bantered for a bit and then he started with all of the required presurgery discussions.

He told me it was really no big deal. He told me it would be just 15 - 20 minutes long and I wouldn't feel a thing. He said it would be "Easy Peasy" (to which I responded "Yeah, for YOU! God put that toenail there for a reason! Are you SURE you want to question the Big Guy like that?"). And then he made a tactical error. He followed up all of those statements by saying "In fact, you'll feel so good after the procedure that you'll want to decline the pain med script I'll try to send home with you. But trust me, you'll need it for a few days so please take it."

Ummmm... easy peasy and the need for script pain meds, a controlled substance mind you, don't exactly describe the same thing to you, do they??? Me, either. I pointed that out to him quite kindly. Really. *no smirking allowed so straighten up* After we discussed this discrepancy thoroughly and he had decided to forgo the charismatic con job, we got down to the nitty gritty. It isn't going to be pleasant. My toenail is being forcibly removed. Against its will. Without consent. By someone who thinks it is no big deal. *sigh* I think I'll decide what is a big deal to my toe and what isn't! :)

So you see, I've been on antibiotics for several days now. Tomorrow afternoon begins what we'll come to know as "The Great Wuss Weekend". My dearest Donald is preparing to wait on me hand and foot while I am drugged up to stay on top of the pain. I'm planning to let him. Matthew is off to camp on Sunday so Honey and Poppy will make the delivery after Daddy gets his laundry all done and makes sure he's packed everything he'll need. Jonathan will undoubtedly worry about me so I'll get to spend lots of time cuddling with him and perhaps reading him a new book I have waiting from the library. If I can focus. LOL Laura will wonder why she's not getting all of Daddy's attention and I'll end up thinking that's a good thing. So perhaps The Great Wuss Weekend will have a good consequence after all.

Nah. What was I thinking.

So while you're wondering where your weekend went and why you didn't get anything done when you had so much planned, remember that at least your weekend was much better than mine. Remember that in Somewhere, USA there's a wuss with her foot stuck up in the air, wondering why she worried so much about something that really wasn't such a big deal. But Shhhhhhh! Don't tell Don!!! He's still willing to wait on me for a few more days! :)