Give It the Boot

Yesterday afternoon, I took a nap. Generally if I lay down in the middle of the day, I might doze for a half hour, or maybe fall asleep for an hour. For some reason, yesterday I took what someone might politely call a power nap. I slept solidly — almost certainly snoring loudly and drooling madly — for nearly two hours.

I woke up in the middle of a dream, and I started laughing. I almost never remember my dreams, but because I woke up from this one, it was crystal clear. In my dream, I was at my foot doctor’s office. My sister Jen was with me. The waiting room was chaos, shoulder-to-shoulder people who were there to see the doctor. As we waited, a terrible storm began outside, with lots of booming thunder and harsh flashes of lightening.

The doctor’s assistant finally came out to take me back to the exam room, where the doctor was going to look at my foot and tell me whether or not I needed to keep wearing the boot I have been wearing for nearly four weeks, after having worn a cast for another four weeks. If not, I could go home in a pair of shoes and on my own two feet. Just as the doctor was about the step into the room, there was huge boom and a big flash of light, and the electricity went out. Not only that, it became quite apparent that this wasn’t any old storm. This was a hurricane. He ran away, telling his assistant to run for cover.

Everyone began running around like crazy people, and it became apparent that I wasn’t going to see the doctor. Without a second thought, I jumped off the exam table and began running around looking for the doctor. I finally found the doc huddled in a room with the other doctors. I yelled at him, “Dr. Hansen, you have to look at my foot.” He told me it wasn’t possible and suggested I take cover.

I was stunned for a moment, and then I made my way through the crowd. Jen had joined me, and I could hear her begging me, “Kris, don’t do it.” Using superhuman strength, I picked up the doctor, grabbing the front of his cheerful red shirt with two hands like I was a defensive tackle.

“You come with me,” I said through gritted teeth. “I am not going to wear this boot home. YOU WILL EXAMINE MY FOOT RIGHT NOW.”

And I don’t know if he did because I woke up at that point.

I have an appointment later today with Dr. Hansen, who I am hoping with all of my heart is going to tell me that I can lose the boot and spend the rest of my recovery watching my swelling go down wearing a bedroom slipper. Woe betide him if he doesn’t. I might actually have superhuman strength.

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