Hey, y'all. Just checking in real quick for some random chit-chat over coffee on a rainy Wednesday morning.
Well. I'm slightly annoyed because I've been having some ankle pain for the last several days. As I mentioned before, I've been training for a half marathon in Deanna's memory and it's been going great. Well, mostly great. A little over a week ago, I ran about five and a half miles (which, for me, was like an ultra marathon.) The following day I felt awesome so hit the pavement for another three miles. When I got home, I started feeling this nagging discomfort in my left ankle on the outer side.
Just superior to the lateral malleolus, for you nerdy medicine people who need the jargon to go with my symptoms.
So. Where was I? Oh, my ankle. So, yeah. I decided that it wasn't so bad and ran on it a couple of days later. Epic. Fail. By the following day, I was limping. And so. I gave it a solid four days of rest, ibuprofen and all the stuff WE tell our patients they need and it (mostly) felt better. I even went to a fancy, schmancy performance running store to see if I was a "pronator" or yadda yah whatever they say you are if your foot rolls in or out or something or other. Turns out I have a high arch and that I am not a pronator but instead just a normal chick who runs regular.
They still convinced me to get a shoe made for a person with a high arch and a non-pronator-y foot, so I get home with it all proud of myself for (sort of) seeking medical attention. And by medical attention, I mean the dude in the Big Peach Running Store who had me run on a treadmill and who projected my bony ankles and feet on a big-A screen while analyzing my stride.
So I put on my new, custom fit, swanky running shoes yesterday morning. I can still feel a tiny niggle in my ankle but I decide to be bad ass and run through it. Because, I mean, it had been like five days and I was feeling myself regressing back to my baseline wanna-be runner status.
And as a sidebar, despite my medical attention from the dude in Big Peach, I also got a consult from the BHE who has done his share of running as an ex-army dude/marathoner. And his assessment of the whole situation is:
"You're forty-two babe. And you didn't rest enough."
To which I scoffed, "Dude. Are you calling me old? Are you saying my diagnosis is old-and-flicted?"
To which he replied, "That is exactly what I'm saying, baby. Old and 'flicted."
And if you don't know what 'flicted is, just know that it's short for AF-flicted and pretty much is a word to describe anything that used to work but now does not.
"I just got this umbrella and on that windy day it turned inside out on me. Now it's all 'flicted."
"Why you walking all like you 'flicted?"
"'Cause I think I hurt my ankle running."
"Did you roll it?"
"No! That's why I'm so bothered by it!"
"Oh. Maybe you're just old and 'flicted. That happens over forty."
"Uhhh, thanks. . .?"
So yesterday morning, in my hoity-toity runners, I went out again for three and a half miles. And today I am limping. Completely limping. Which sucks.
I'm 'flicted, people. 'Flicted, I say!
So now I guess I'm going to have to wait a solid week. And if within that week I don't feel better, I'm going to have to break down and get it imaged. The last thing I need is to hear that I have some kind of stress fracture. So yeah, I ain't even claiming that.
No, I am not.
What else? Oh. Despite my 'flicted ankle, yesterday I did a segment at HLN on this show called Raising America. I like HLN. It's a sister station to CNN and usually one channel over from it, at least here it is. They are all in the same studios in the CNN center. That was my first time doing HLN in studio. I really, really enjoyed their energy. I hope to go back. Next time I'll give you guys some notice so that you can check a sista out.
And lastly, this:
This is my friend, Shahed. She's one of my faves and is technically not a Grady doctor anymore but a VA doctor. She refers to her patients as "America's heroes" which I completely love. And she feels the way about the VA and our vets that I do about my Grady elders, so she's alright with me.
She's also hilarious. And super smart. And a major cat lover. The cat lover part is what is most hilarious. I took these pictures of Shah at the end of our Residency Leadership Committee meeting Friday as proof that she is indeed a "crazy cat lady." She states firmly that she "only has four cats" which technically doesn't make her at "crazy cat lady" status. To which I said, "No. Not crazy-hoarder-cat-lady status but crazy cat lady status nonetheless."
To which she concurred. But not before showing me her collection of photoshopped Atlanta Falcons versions of her ultra-mega-kittens (as she calls them.)
I love my job, my ankle is 'flicted, and it's raining in Atlanta. That's what's going on with me. What's up with y'all?