J: How was the doctor today?
Me: He's fine.
J: Ugh. How was YOUR visit with the doctor today?
Me:Um, well, the reason I went to the doctor, for my debilitating life- shortening disease, was promising, but then he took off my sandals and diagnosed me with plantar something. Plantar Snuffleupagus, that's it.
J: So you have a problem in your left heel that's named after Big Bird's imaginary friend?
Me: Yes, and what do you mean "imaginary"?
J:No one could see Snuffleupagus, you know that, right?
Me: What the hell. I could see Snuffleupagus. He was NOT imaginary.
J: No one besides Big Bird could see him on Sesame Street.
Me: You are full of shit.
J: What's it really called?
Me: I freaking TOLD you. Plantar Snuffleupagus.
J: I'm done.
Me: That's fine. I'm done, too. I don't associate with big old LIARS.
Okay. So I looked it up. I actually have plantar fasciitis. The pain is outrageous. Sometimes I go to stand up and I tip over because I can't step down on the left foot at all. You can laugh at me, it's okay, that's what Jeremiah does. Or you can bark at me, if you'd like. That's what the dogs do when I start to tip over. I always knew that my left side would give out first. Stupid left side. I was quite proud of myself for living with Snuffy's Disease for so long, considering people get injections to help with the pain. My doctor asked why I hadn't gone to a doctor to fix it and I told him that I simply did not know what doctor I should go to. Plus, I don't like my podiatrist (who refused to do things my way) or my general physician (who does not listen to me when I tell her I am sick). So he said I could come to him as needed. Mostly I think that I make him laugh.
Regarding Snuffy being invisible? I looked it up. And Jeremiah? When I was a kid, he was real. Big Bird outed him from imaginary to real in 1985. When you were a kid, you know, seven years before me, he was imaginary. So there, you old bastard. I win.
p.s. Sorry for the vaultlessness today. As you have just read, I am currently suffering and in great pain due to my plantar snuffleupagus. Plus, I wanted to gloat a bit about being a winner. Again.
p.p.s. My chiropractor has also helped. I guess helped is the right word. He basically "massaged" the pain yesterday. Massaged is only the right word if it means "incredible pain that feels like a thousand knives stabbing me repeatedly on the bottom of the foot making me scream in public and wiggle so much that a boob nearly falls out of my bra."
p.p.p.s. You should ask how much sympathy I got from Jeremiah when I got home. I know you won't ask, so I will just tell you. As I