after phoning the clinic and asking if i might have a doctor’s appointment, the receptionist asked what was my issue. i told her i was lonely. there ensued a pregnant silence during which i tried to assure her that i was joking but i don’t think she believed me.
the truth of the matter was i had been barely able to walk for weeks. my back, left hip and leg all felt as though i’d all of a sudden become a cranky, aging, sixty-eight-year-old guy, which of course i am.
anyway, after all the pushing, poking and prodding, the doctor suggested tylenol and physio. well, he also organized an x-ray just to make sure there was no bone damage. but basically he was pretty convinced my issue was a sciatic one and it’d just take time. i had no intention of doing physio and frankly i thought he was very wrong. i was quite certain the situation was much more serious than that.
as it happened, the doctor was far more interested in some spots he spotted upon my otherwise lovely face. and so the only treatment i really received was a very liberal spraying of liquid nitrogen upon said previously lovely face. that left me looking as though i was of no fixed address, as though i probably mostly hung around various taverns on clarence street.
once safely back in my car i drove immediately up to tim hortons where i seemed to fit in very well. and, as difficult as it was for me to admit, my back felt strangely much better.
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