There is a downside to being healthy; I have encountered it every time I decide to go to the doctor for something that seems painfully out of the ordinary (and probably deadly), only to be told it's a muscle spasm, or in today's case, a sprained toe joint.
Son of a bitch, I didn't just pay $75 for a doctor's exam and x-rays, only to be told I sprained my toe doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I paid $75 for some kind of broken bone, a large cast or boot and a crap ton of sympathy over something that is medically tangible. Sort of like the time I did a handstand when I was 10, and landed in what can only be described as a "jumble of arms"--I complained a bit, but the real giveaway was the fact that I wept through the night and didn't sleep a wink, which led my parents to take me to the doctor, who referred us for x-rays that ultimately revealed it was broken so bad that I needed surgery to fix it.
That's generally what I'm looking for when I go to the doctor (which is never)--a diagnosis of how brave and strong I have been in the face of something terrible, but not life-threatening.
Instead, my fascination with House and other such fictional medical dramas lead me to believe that strange pain is the sign of a rare metabolic disorder. Like that time, about two years ago, when I *thought* I was having a heart attack--or at the very least, that there was some kind of tumor prohibiting my body's ability to pump blood. THAT was the neck spasm diagnosis. Um, no--I freaking know where my NECK is, thankyouverymuch. As I haven't perished yet, I now realize that it wasn't life threatening--but when Oprah and Dr. Oz tell you to take chest pain seriously, YOU LISTEN, because they can kill you with their MINDS..but then you feel like a jack hole at Urgent Care, until you're doctor offers you a prescription of muscle relaxants for your "spasms" and then it's kind of worth it. But geez, I would have felt like an even bigger jack hole if I had a massive heart attack in my sleep, after whining about chest pain for four days. This is my general conundrum--how to look like less of an idiot on a daily basis.
It's moments like these when I want to SHOUT from the rooftops that I actually have a high tolerance for pain! That I was about to birth my triplets in the emergency room parking lot, before even realizing I was in labor! That I broke my own finger teaching aerobics and didn't go to the doctor until it was swollen and purple! That I cut back on my percocet a few days after my c-sections because I don't like feeling loopy! I never call our pediatrician over a cold or a fever! I'm not a wimp! I just don't happen to get hurt or sick very often, and so I have very little frame of reference! Don't blame me, blame genetics!!!
For a moment, during today's unnecessary visit, the doctor suggested that the issue could possibly be gout, which is like, EXACTLY the opposite of a cool diagnosis, and also NOT what I was paying to hear. People who have gout, I am so sorry for ever making fun of your diagnosis (really, just the name that congers up images of the fat one might find in a large fish)--if this is what it looks and feels like, it totally sucks.
Also, I hate to admit it, but this was all, apparently caused by a pair of flip-flops that I've been wearing while moving out of my in-laws basement. The nurse who took my information actually asked me if I was "smart enough to know that I shouldn't be wearing those while moving". Well, apparently not lady, because I'm paying you $75 to tell me I sprained my toe joint by wearing them, while simultaneously berating my intelligence. I'm sorry, but don't people walk into urgent care ALL THE TIME with *things* shoved in *places*? I want to be in the room NEXT TO the guy that *accidentally* sat on his kid's Star Wars action figure--you know for PERSPECTIVE on the common sense scale.
Which is REALLY saying something, if you re-read that last sentence. Officially, I am never going to Urgent Care ever again, because my pride and perceived intelligence just can't take it.