A Prayer of Pity

I have had left leg pain for a few months, since I began working out.  I know, stop working out.  Got it sassy pants.  So, I have seen a family doctor, then an emergency doc, and finally, had my vascular surgeon appointment this morning.  Turns out, no, my varicose veins are not the cause to my pain, as the E.R. doc suspected.  The thought now is that it is a torn hamstring, or other ligament, tendon, or muscle.  Sooooo.... that brings us to an orthopedist on Wed. morning, and still, no leg pain relief, or exercise, in the mean time.  

The vascular surgeon's office was an experience.  An experience for old people.  It was not a place for a five, six, and a thirty-five year old to happen upon.  Luckily, they realized this, and moved us quickly.  We walk in, sign in, get a packet of paper work to work on, and take a seat between a man in a wheelchair that has recently had a foot removed, and a lady with lower legs that appear to be tree trunks.  The man in the wheelchair was agitated, and once Charlie asked me about his foot, the man sent his wife to ask how much longer he would be waiting.  Then, turns out, they were like nearly an hour behind, and he told his wife to reschedule the appointment, and they left.  Their were others in the room, none younger than the crowd that appreciates an early bird special, and they seemed content to sit.  They actually seemed okay with it, as this is what they do with their time anyway- sit.  I liked that about this crowd.  I love old people.  While my migits were eyeballing every oddity in the room, I was appreciating the smiles they received, and the approving nods in my direction letting me know that they thought my children were charming.  (They were very well behaved, quiet, and sat on the floor coloring anywhere I was in the office.)  

I was expecting to wait a long time, as I had already witnessed a few minutes of the wait as soon as I sat down and began my paperwork.  To every one's surprise, I was called back prior to completing my forms.  The technician, a gentleman in his mid forties, called me back to do the ultrasound, prior to meeting with the vascular surgeon.  He was pretty difficult to warm up to, but I worked on him, and finally got him talking.  I asked him how long he'd been doing this, and what he did before this, as he had only been in this field the past seven years.  He explained how he had gotten a job just prior to getting out of ultra sound schooling, and how lucky he had been to leave the construction business when he did, as it was just about to bottom out.  I then told him that I was a stay at home mom, but I too understood the timing, and was fortunate to have always had work when I was a medical assistant.  I told him that I knew a guy that had gone through the same schooling recently, and he was unable to find full time employment doing this type of work, and that he was still working at the urgent care and doing some temp or part time work else where trying to get his foot in the door.  (I'm forever trying to network for people.)  Well, what do you know???  He knew him.  

As our conversation, and ultrasound came to an end, he kinda' gave me the inside scoop, off the record, and said, "It's totally clear."  I knew it, as I had told him I figured, but I was jumping through the hoops to mark that off so that another doctor can throw darts at the board on it, and he told me to get dressed and he would be back.  He came back in after what I assumed was a quick once over by the doc., and I asked him if all is fine, and they are so backed up in patients, could I skip it?  He probably wouldn't have, but he felt bad I guess, and said, sure, by doing that, I probably won't even have to pay since my insurance pays fully for diagnostics, per the front desk.  So... He smiled, and told me to tell Brett that Norm says "hi."  Done.  It's good to know people.  Even if the people is just Brett.  

I had not finished my paper work, therefore, I had to go back to the waiting room for another five minutes as I finished the paperwork.  A lady was wheeled in, had to be about 100, as she was on a stretcher, and her daughter was trying to smooth her hair and talk to her.  Her daughter was about 70.  Charlie asked what was wrong with her.  I said that I didn't know.  The migits started chatting with another lady at that point about their swim team medals they were wearing.  As I finished, and handed my paperwork over to the front desk, I told the children to say good bye to every one.  So, Chaz looks at each person in the room and says "good-bye," and to the old lady on the stretcher with her eyes closed and her daughter still smoothing her hair, Charlie says, "Bye and I'm sorry about you."  Everyone in the room said "Awe."  I just shook my head and prayed that she didn't hear, or understood that his vocabulary is not as up to speed with his sentiment.  

So, for that lady, and Brett, I say a prayer that they took pity on her and didn't make her wait too long, and that someone has pity on Brett and gives him a job, or I will continually throw his name around in hopes that someone will employ him full time.  

(I know, as for my own job search... I have been dragging my feet.  And usually, if I am not moving on something, and the motivation isn't there, there is a reason.  I don't know what He has in store for me, but I know there is a reason.  Patience.  And healing of this leg.  I will work on those for now.)