From this morning, A Scene:
Foot doctor: [eyes go HUGE]
Me: It's OK, I slammed the door on it. But just a little bit.
Foot doctor: A little bit?
Me: I swear it's fine.
Foot doctor: "Does it hurt when I do this?"
Me: Nope.
Foot doctor: [eyes me skeptically]
Me: I swear it's fine.
Foot doctor: It could just be soft tissue damage. If it still hurts in two days, come back for an x-ray.
Me: It doesn't hurt at all compared to my ankle.
Foot doctor: Your ankle?
Me: Yeah, that's actually why I'm here. Remember the whole cast thing?
Foot doctor: Oh, right! Yes. Let's have a look.
Me: It still kind of pinches.
Foot doctor: It will probably stop doing that when you stop slamming it in doors.
Me: touche.
So, the good news is that my torn ligaments in the whatever part of my ankle area seem to be almost all mended up, other than some pain and swelling when I do stupid things like stand up for 14 hours straight or slam doors without being careful.
The other good news is that I (narrowly) avoided yet another x-ray this morning by not yelling and flinching when the doctor pressed on the new bruises.
The bad news is that when I went into the exam room, the exam chair/table thing had one of those chuck's pads on it. You know, for when your body is leaking? The chuck was at the foot of the chair/table, as one would expect in a *podiatrist's* office. I, however, did not immediately put two and two together and so I sat on the chuck, precariously balancing at the edge of the chair/table. The nurse was all, "You can scoot back."
And I didn't understand.
That's right. It took a full five minutes for me to realize, "Ooooooh. You don't sit on a chuck at the podiatrist. That's only at the OB/GYN."
At least I left my pants on.
So.
Two more weeks in a stretchy ankle brace and then I'm good. (Ankle-wise. I'm still working on this whole not-being-an-idiot thing.)