Today I am having a 'minimally invasive' laser procedure done. These two terms: 'minimally invasive' and 'laser' just don't seem to work together to insure confidence. At least I figure it will result in a couple of blog posts. So, in order to set the mood, I am posting a previous adventure in medical care:
Yes, We Have No Bananas
I am lucky. I just happen to
work at one of the finest medical facilities in the nation and as
such, thanks to employer subsidized healthcare, have access to some
of the finest medical care a twenty dollar co-pay can buy. This came
in quite handy recently when my left foot decided to take on a life
of its own and grow what can only be described as the spinal cord of
what I am sure was my unborn twin.
I guess here is where I
should insert the WARNING – this post will
include discussion of feet. As much as I like shoes, I do not like
feet, toes, toenails or any of the myriad of gross ailments that
those body parts can acquire. That being said, when the ball of my
left foot began to hurt I was forced to remove the Carlos Santana
Hooker Heels and take a look.
After months of poking,
pumicing and ignoring I decided that the painful lump was not going
to go away on its own. So I did what any responsible healthcare
consumer does. I made an appointment with my primary care physician,
fully expecting a 'get that gross hoof out of my office' and a
referral to a podiatrist.
Now, it should be mentioned
that the building where my doctor – a highly regarded diagnostician
– maintains his office, has the word 'ADVANCED' in it. This will
become important later in this story.
I hobbled in for my
appointment and after the obligatory blood pressure check and always
fun weigh in, I took my seat on the exam table. I don't know about
you but I find it impossible to not swing my legs like a three year
old when I sit on an exam table. By the time the doctor came in I had
performed most of the can-can and was starting in on a Rockette kick
line. I took a gracious bow and proceeded to explain the reason for
my visit:
"There is something
sprouting from the bottom of my left foot. It feels like I have been
walking in a cheap pair of Walmart pumps."
The Highly Regarded
Diagnostician nodded knowingly, sat on his wheely chair and gently
took my foot in his hand. He turned it this way and that, studying
the intricacies of the offending growth and commenting on the lovely
color of polish on my toenails. (OPI-Lunch at the Dehli). He then
looked up sheepishly and said, "well, we have a couple of
options here." He offered the expected referral to a podiatrist
– a physician I can only assume either has deep seated mental
issues or some major community service hours to execute - OR my
Doctor said he could possibly take care of it himself.
Then he qualified his claim
with "Now, don't laugh." (Here is where I ask that you keep
the word ADVANCED as well as the word MEDICINE in the back of your
mind.)
Doctor went on to outline
his treatment plan. (WARNING!) Where he would shave the growth down,
which would render it painless immediately. However, this was only
step one. Feeling that I would be a compliant patient, he went on to
explain my portion of the treatment, warning me again to "Not
Laugh."
I was intrigued.
"Tonight, when you go
to bed, wrap a banana peel around the foot." He barely got the
words out before once again saying, "Please, don't laugh."
It was sort of fun to watch him twist back and forth on his wheely
chair as he told me to secure the peel with an ACE wrap. The
treatment would only need to be performed one time he assured me. I
did not tell him that with a banana peel wrapped around my foot, I
would only be allowed to sleep in the same bed as my husband one
time...most likely, the last time.
He left the exam room long
enough for me to do a couple of high kicks and returned with a
sterile knife blade. He proceeded to ask after my kids, our summer
plans, and work. I am an extremely trusting human being, some would
say gullible, but why quibble. When another human is coming at your
foot with a sharp blade it is very hard to make small talk. I tried
my best to answer but with my teeth clenched as tightly as they were
I doubt he got much beyond "mmphh" and "eee".
Five minutes later I left
his office, soul of my foot neatly shaved and no longer painful. He
looked at me hopefully. "So, are you really going to try the
banana peel?"
I shrugged and said "Only
if you give me a cut of the bet you are obviously about to win."
He chuckled as he handed my
chart to the clerk, his hopeful expression turned to worry. "And,
please, don't tell anyone."
Now he was worried
about who might hear this? Well, sorry Doc, confidentiality is not a
two way street. I had a week's worth of tweets ready to post.
I left the office and made
my way to Trader Joe's for some of the finest organic bananas my
healthcare dollars could buy; all the while trying to figure out how
to explain to my family why I would be tying an entire banana peel
around my foot. They were surprising supportive. My husband offered
to call 911 when I slipped on the peel in the middle of the night and
broke my hip while my daughter did an extensive on-line search of
'banana peel+foot+insanity'. My son ate the banana for me.
In the end, I trimmed down
the peel to bandage size and placed it – banana side in- to my foot
and secured it with a large bandaid. Now, here is where it gets
weird. When I first stepped down on the poulticed foot it tingled.
Alot. The tingling was soon replaced by an almost electric thumping.
And the next morning the weird little spot had nearly vanished!
Now I just need to figure
out what to do with the remainder of those 26 nineteen-cent bananas I
had to buy to meet my five dollar co-pay on generic prescriptions.
(For purpose of full
disclosure-what I had was a plantar wart. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT
search this malady on the internet. Take my word for it, the text
search results are bad enough. The image search will make you want to
wash your eyeballs with antibiotic ointment. However, treatment for
plantar wart actually does include the Banana Peel Protocol. And you
know what they say – If its on the Internet, it has to be true!)
