Chapter One: My new doctor.
Today, I saw an odd little doctor about a foot injury. I was going to ignore the foot problem, but made the mistake of mentioning it to my mother. She became convinced...convinced...that my foot was broken, that it had been broken for months, that I probably had a blood clot, that any sudden movement would knock loose the blood clot, that the newly-freed clot would swiftly travel to my heart, and that I would die. Instantly. Her panic turned to my panic. Enter Doctor Peculiar.
Doctor: What's going on here?
Me: Well, I hurt my foot. I don't know what's wrong with it. But it hurts right...here.
Doctor: Ooookay. Well. You have rather large feet.
Me: Yes.
Doctor: They are very long.
Me: Yep. Do you think that has something to do with my injury?
Doctor: No.
Me: Okay.
Doctor: Looking at your x-ray, there are no bones that are obviously broken.
Me: Well, that's good.
Doctor: I'd certainly say so, yes. Very good.
Doctor Peculiar then honed in on my foot, staring. With very little precision and even less indication of experience with this sort of thing, he curled his fingers into a fist, lest the index finger. In this pre-formed "pointing" position, his hand closed in on my foot.
Poke.
"Does it hurt there?"
"No."
Rather than simply retracting his hand, Doctor Peculiar's entire body rocked backwards after this first point of contact, as if he was frozen in his Pointing Position. I stared, fascinated, as he appeared to be coming in for another one.
Poke.
He did this with exactly the same level of bewitched curiosity as a cat nudging a square of Jell-O with its paw.
"Does it hurt there?"
"A little."
"Okay then."
He referred me to a podiatrist and prescribed me something called Daypro, which I suspect will be laced with a small amount of Rohypnol to render me unconscious for just long enough for him to sneak into my house, snap some photos of my "long" feet and post them on a website which will almost certainly have the word 'amazon' or 'giantess' somewhere in the web address.
Oh, I'm onto you, Doctor. I'm onto you.
Okay, I might be wrong...but...I'd swear this is the same doctor that performed my recent proctology exam. There was the same, POKE, POKE...bewildered look...and referrral and prescription recommendation. Then last night I could have sworn I heard the clicking of a camera while I slept.___Hmmmmmmm?
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