My Streak of Wimp

{This post is Part 2 of a very involved story about my feet. If you think you won't possibly be interested in reading about my feet, you are probably correct.  If that is the case, don't click here to read the first part of the story, just check back in a few days when I'll probably have a recipe for something sweet or fall-ish posted or more likely a picture of a child making a goofy face or reading a book.  If you are one of those curious folks who delight in strange tales of horror, click here for the first part of the story and then continue reading below.}

I have a terribly wide "streak of wimp" running through my veins. This streak goes on pure parade in the presence of needles which is why my parents have had to scoop my limp body off of many a doctor's office floor.  This has caused my Mom, the registered nurse, no small amount of embarrassment.  I remember the time my Dad told me if I didn't pass out when I got a shot that I was due to receive that afternoon, he'd bring me a treat when he came home from work.  Happily, I survived the shot without passing out and even succeeded in driving myself home from the doctor's office.  When my Dad got home, he produced a BlowPop sucker from his pocket and awarded me for my bravery as promised.  I think that the reason for my shot that day, was to get the necessary boosters for immunizations to enter college.

Once, I came down with a bad cold/flu and so decided to stop in to the local "quick care" to see what they could do for me.  "Well," the doctor said, "your best option is the shot, it will get you better faster than anything else."  The nurse loaded up the syringe and gave me the shot. It did not hurt at all. Unfortunately my "streak of wimp" had already been launched and down I went.  I didn't actually pass out, but came so close two or three times in the next few minutes that it became obvious to all involved that I would have to find alternative transport back to Mom and Dad's.  Since my Mom was at home watching my children at the time, she was unavailable to assist me.  My Man (a fellow sufferer of needle aversion)  wasn't able to travel home with us, so being a few states away, he was not an option.  The task of my retrieval this time, fell to my Dad.  No BlowPop for me that day!

My last trip to the office of our family doctor had been rewarding and blissfully uneventful.  The Physician's Assistant listened to my complaints about my heels, asked me a few questions, and said, "You've got a classic case of plantar faciitis."

Google Health reports that, plantar faciitis is the "inflammation (irritation and swelling with presence of extra immune cells) of the plantar fascia can cause heel pain and make walking difficult." 
I took great comfort in the word classic and in the treatment which consisted of two prescriptions and instructions to roll a frozen water bottle under my heel throughout the day.  After three or four days of medication and iced water bottles, I was as good as new.  Then I finished the medication, and my pain came back, this time seeming worse than before because I now remembered how it felt to be pain free.

So, you can imagine the mental earthquake that took place when I called the Doctor's office to ask if there might be a way to continue on the medicine that had helped my feet so much the week before, and the kind receptionist, who is also a friend of mine, said, "He's going to want to put Cortisone in your heels." My friend asked the good doctor if I could have more medication and then had the nurse call me and tell me that there was an opening available in two days for my "procedure".  Part of my quaking brain was hoping that the "procedure" for getting the Cortisone into my heels was a "rub-on" cream or something, but the other part of my brain was alerting my "streak of wimp" to strike up the band because it was time for the parade to begin...