Sometimes it seems that some of the most interesting times of our lives are destined to repeat themselves. While this isn't all that bad when the interesting times were great ones, it can be frustrating when those times were ones you'd rather leave far behind you. And I mean far, far behind you. As in never have to look back, and never have to deal with it again, either. Ah, if only it were that easy peasy.
Yes, you read that right. Easy Peasy. If you've been reading the blog for awhile you'll remember that those cute little words were spoken by our wise, very comical Dr. Stone last fall. The very one who told me that removing a toe nail would be indeed 'easy peasy' and I had nothing to worry about. As it turned out, easy peasy wasn't exactly how I'd describe it but then I was on the receiving end and he was just doing the fun part. Well, at least from his perspective. So of course it was easy peasy. For him!
Anyway, it seems I am enjoying the same infection that attacked last year and we're working on getting rid of it with antibiotics. I'd rather avoid the whole toenail removal thing. And to that end, he took my very swollen toe, lanced it - can you say OUCH! - and the stuck a q-tip thingy in there to get a 'sample' to grow so he knew what we were dealing with. Uh yeah. Fun, that. NOT. And then, just to top off the event, he squeezed the sucker just for good measure. At this point I'm beginning to wish that the examination table were a bit lower so my other foot could make contact with something but I restrained. Wonderful patient that I am.
When he finally finished his dastardly deeds, he lead me back to his office to finish up. I'm busy being thankful that I wore sandals so my throbbing toe would not be shoved into a shoe, when the Good Doctor pulls one of the sneakiest, apparently well-thought-out tricks yet. He grabs the blood pressure cuff and shoves it on my arm. Talk about playing dirty pool...
Now I'm the first to admit my bp is a bit high, but it is not like I'm going to have a heart attack any day now. At least, as Dr. Stone assures me, not on his watch. So what is the big deal? At home, just the night before it was 134/84 - a great improvement over the previous measurement. And a wonderful testament to the relaxation brought about by a week at the beach. But just telling him that wasn't good enough. Oh no. He waited until after he ransacked my poor toe before he takes his reading. Imagine my surprise when it read 134/103. Yes, that was 103. *sigh*
He sends me off with a script for an antibiotic and a diuretic to help my blood pressure. A diuretic. Translation: You get a lot of time to ponder what new paint and/or wallpaper you want to use in every bathroom in the house. We have three. I'm intimately aware of all of their foibles as I've visited them so often in the past two days that I'm going to have to get my own bronzed statue commemorating the throne soon as I'm declared the "Most Frequent Visitor in 2008". Or at least replace the carpeting and tile in each one as they are wearing out at an ever increasing rate. And we aren't even done with the year, yet.
Ah, the Good Doctor.
But today, after just two days on the medication, I stopped taking it. Its effect on me, aside from the obvious, meant I was extremely nauseous and dizzy. Can't live like that. Give me fat feet from methyldopa any day over that. After all, I'm a good patient. Obedient. Really. I am. Most of the time.
So my trips to the our three water closets has lessened somewhat, and I'm wondering what he'll do to me next. Perhaps we can just wait a bit before starting something else. After all, here at home my bp was acceptable last night. Really it was. I have witnesses.
And so it goes...