As promised, I am going to tell you what happened at the orthopedic surgeon’s office after I waited a very long time for my broken toe to heal…because it remained broken and would not heal.
After all those months of limping and aching and hurting and complaining, I made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. Once again, I had to tell the long embarrassing story, but since I was still in agony, I didn’t mind so much. When I finished speaking, the doctor didn’t even smile. That should have been my clue. As comedian Bill Engvall would say, “Here’s your sign!”
I now conclude that either one or all of the following are true:
- The orthopedic surgeon hates red hair.
- The orthopedic surgeon had an evil redheaded ex-girlfriend or wife.
- The orthopedic surgeon hates women.
- The orthopedic surgeon is basically sadistic.
- The orthopedic surgeon is void of all emotion.
In other words, the orthopedic surgeon was the evil Mr. Hyde incognito.
I sat on the table with my legs dangling over the side until Mr. Hyde came into the room with his nurse. After looking at my broken toe, the bruising on the top of my foot and educating me about the foot and toes, he sent the nurse out of the room to collect some things to help me…so he claimed.
The nurse came back into the room with a shot. A needle with some kind of something in it.
Before you start thinking that I’m really wimpy, try to remember that I’m the same woman who INSISTED on giving birth to my daughter without medication because I WANTED to FEEL the beauty of birth. See? That attitude is not the attitude of a wimpy woman!
Thank you for not thinking so badly about me now.
“All I’m going to do is give you a shot of cortisone in the toe to help it heal,” Mr. Hyde, the orthopedic surgeon said.
“In my toe?!!!!” I asked and exclaimed simultaneously in fear.
“It is the only way.”
The doctor was not comforting or reassuring me in the least. He was actually quite cold in his demeanor.
I was still staring at him and he was impatiently staring back at me. I assumed he was waiting for me to acquiesce. Apparently Mr. Hyde was used to getting his way.
“Alright,” I agreed, but only because I was so tired of limping around with a toe that wouldn’t heal. I was terrified and my stomach was immediately in knots.
The orthopedic surgeon arranged the back of his chair up against the table I was sitting on. Then he sat down in the chair back to me. My left leg was on his left side and slightly behind his back. The doctor then took my right leg and put it under his arm and rested my foot between his knees.
I felt quite trapped.
The nurse handed him the shot.
The well educated and trained doctor who had been a practicing orthopedic surgeon for many years, stuck the needle in the JOINT of my big toe and proceeded to move the needle around and around without giving me any warning.
I grabbed both sides of his head, of course.
“You’re killing me!” I said.
I don’t think anyone had ever touched his precious head before because he jumped a little before he said in a controlled voice, “Stop squeezing my head.”
The good doctor was right. I was squeezing his head to try and control myself from leaping off the table especially because Mr. Hyde had the nerve to say, “Be very still.”
Who was he kidding?
Out of all the orthopedic surgeons in Richmond, Virginia, I had found the one who was surely a mad man.
Meanwhile the evil doctor was twisting the needle all around between the broken joint of my big toe. It just went on forever.
I broke out in a sweat.
My face was on fire.
I felt like throwing up.
Then as quickly as he had stabbed the needle in my toe, the doctor pulled the needle out of my toe, let go of my leg, stood up and turned around. Looking directly in my eyes he said, “I’m finished. Are you okay?”
Yeah, I went from alert to total darkness in less than a second.
I guess that answered the doctor’s question.
When I woke up, the orthopedic surgeon was not in the room. Instead, the nurse was hovering over me saying, “Sherry? Wake up. You’ve fainted. How are you feeling?”
Umm, how did she think I was feeling? My toe was exploding with pain and my head now felt very fuzzy.
“He is a really good doctor, but his bedside manner is lacking sometimes,” the nurse tried to explain.
Lacking? Really? The nurse could say THAT again! The brainy and accomplished orthopedic surgeon had plenty of bedside manners…they were the manners of the evil Mr. Hyde!
After regaining full brain function again, I left the office…hobbling. I vowed NEVER to return to that office again.
My big toe was DARK PURPLE and BLACK the next day and it took many more months to heal. Yes, it eventually healed. Why it took close to a eighteen months to heal was a mystery to me at the time. Looking back now I realize exactly why my body couldn’t heal from anything very quickly. That’s what we call the precious gift of hind sight.
Thankfully, my big toe is recovered and you can’t tell I broke it all those years ago.
AND I have forgiven the evil Mr. Hyde.