My right ankle - a tale of horror

Since I was a kid I had this problem with my right ankle.

I would run a few steps and it would get sprained. Every. Time.

PE teachers, of course, didn't believe me, and would force me to run anyway. Until I just refused and would not change my mind. Doctors thought I was just trying to get out of PE and wouldn't even look at it. I had one who wanted me to hop on this board he had sitting atop of dowel rod--he wanted me to roll the rod back and forth by shifting my weight on the board. I couldn't. Doc said I was lazy. (For the record, there are professional athletes who couldn't do that. Doc was just an asshole.)

I finally got to the point where I didn't have to worry about it any more--I have no need to run, so except for the occassion misstep it didn't happen.

I took up bodybuilding for a while and also running--I was running--running, not jogging--three miles at a clip. No problems. My legs became enormously powerful, I have to say--I was squatting with an awful lot of weight. I actually enjoyed working legs at the gym.

It wasn't my ankle that eventually gave way and make me stop with the weightlifting. It was my left wrist. And that is a whole 'nother story, though I had a similar issue--convincing a damned doctor that I was indeed experiencing the searing agony in my hand that I claimed and wasn't just fishing around to get on worker's comp Anyways, after surgery on the wrist, and having the arm in a cast for a couple months, my interest in weight lifting diminished.

So, a little while after that I was playing tennis with a friend and moved to cut to my left and I felt something in my right ankle give way. The pain was illuminating, defining. That was over ten years ago and I can still feel something there, where it tore--I'm guessing a ligament that had always been weak finally gave way. But after a day or so the pain diminished and I could walk with only a barely noticeable limp.

Fast forward to today, when I'm going down the stairs here and feel a sudden tear, this time in the calf area, on my right leg. Sheesh. What now?

Anyways, I'll mention it to my doc when I go back to him--got an appointment coming up--but I strongly suspect I'll get the same reaction from him I've always gotten--he won't believe me.

Days like this make me wish I'd stuck with my childhood dream of becoming a rock star. I'd either be dead or have my own reality show by now.

My life, in a nutshell

Yesterday I left the house without my nasal spray.

Now, if you have allergies like I do you're feeling sorry for me right now. If you don't, suffice to say that, this time of year when the oaks are sending out their pollen in the hope of creating the next generation of oaks, my sinuses tend to slam shut without something to induce them to not do so.

So, I decided to go to the drug store to get more during my lunch break. Had to. Couldn't breathe through my nose by then. I wasn't planning to go to the drug store, because it was pouring down rain and the traffic in this city especially sucks when it's raining. But I had no choice.

I slog out to my truck, then splash over to the drugstore to get my drug of choice. Stand in line behind two gentlemen. That's when what always happens to me, especially when I'm in a hurry, happens.

The guy at the front of the line had two cans of nuts and a can of Red Bull. Should only take a couple minutes at most, right? Wrong. I don't know what the dude was doing but it took twenty frakkin' minutes. Whatever he was doing required frequent signatures, phone calls, paging management, more phone calls, a couple of blood sacrifices, money changing hands, more money changing hands, more phone calls, another ritual, Congressional approval, more signatures, more money changing hands, then money changing hands again, then more phone calls, then reading of chicken entrails, consultation with a shaman, use of a Ouija board, a blessing by the Pope, divination, use of a dowsing rod, a physical exam, a ruling from the Supreme Court, and, finally, a note from the guy's doctor. Of course the drug store only had one asile open so I had to stand behind this putz, feeling my life aging away, while he and the lady waiting on him did their dance.

What is it these people are doing? It take me maybe two minutes--tops--to buy my stuff and move along. That's if I'm not rushing.

This happens all the damned time, too. You think somebody who is buying a couple of things will only take a minute to check out and they take all day long. Sheesh!

Yeah, I'm an asshole. But the thing is, I don't care.