Let me tell you I will not miss pushing Maggie in her chair while limping behind it in either the walking boot or the "Darby" shoe that I've been wearing since April. We were a bit of a pathetic site. Yesterday at the museum some concerned lady said to me, "Why are you doing the pushing with your sore foot?" I just smiled and said, "what are you gonna do?"" She smiled back, but in a sad and sympathetic way.
Too bad I didn't have a basket, we probably could have raised some real money.
Yes. It is time to lose the special shoe.
When I went to the orthopedist yesterday he asked about the pain and function. I told him pain was manageable but stairs were still difficult. My instructions are to use the Darby shoe as needed but I should expect to need it less and less. Good news.
As he wrote in my chart and we talked, I mentioned that I had to hurry down the stairs in the middle of the night without the shoe on and felt like I had set myself back a little bit. He continued writing and said without irony and without looking up, "well, don't do that." (Makes sense). I just said nonchalantly, "well, it was a bit of an emergency because my daughter's trach broke and the nurse was yelling for me to help her."
His head whipped up and he looked right at me and said, "What did you say?"
Thinking he didn't hear me, I pointed to my neck and said, "she has a tracheostomy, and her trach tube broke."
I really was just saying it in passing because it explained why my foot was still sore. It was just light conversation as the appointment was wrapping up. But he was clearly and completely surprised by my statement, and I think my nonchalance was just as surprising as what I said.
He stared at me with that perfectly calm doctor face, but his eyes were wide. Without looking away he said, in that perfectly calm doctor voice, "Yeah, I can see where that might require you to hustle."
His calm demeanor and voice were totally betrayed by the sudden rapt attention and wide eyes.
I've seen doctors remain calm on the outside when they clearly weren't inside and it can be very scary. But this time it was funny. He has absolutely no reason to know anything about Maggie. He is my doctor, not hers, and not affiliated with any doctor or hospital that I use with Maggie. Her trach, broken or otherwise, didn't effect him professionally at all. But he knows what having a broken trach means and was concerned. It struck me very very funny to see his surprise give way to his immediate professional reaction.
As I walked gingerly back to my car -- in my very own shoes -- I found myself giggling.
Who else could have that conversation and interpret all the nuances the way I did?
Hardly anyone.
Who else would find it so very entertaining?
I'm thinking no one.
That made me laugh even harder.
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