“Everything will be ok! Because you have a smiley face painted on your big toe.”
This was the first doctor language I had understood during my going-on-4-hour stay in various units of UK Med Center. Possible Meniscus tears and stabilized ACLS… 0 degrees of lateral lift compared to 10 degrees of lateral lift in my good leg…? Not so much.
This is why I’m not going to be a doctor.I speak the language of the silly irrationals, not the scientific logicals. I think In strands of happy-hopeful-isms, not in dreary pessimisms. Generally this grants me immunity from bad days, and even if crap is going down, I’m still laughing about it.
My immunity has somehow now failed me; as if I had the super power of flight and I realized that my powers had gone away mid-air after leaping off a 30 foot cliff.
“There’s a chance you might have to have surgery…” I was politely informed by the doctor whos hand rested on my leg that I really regretted forgetting to shave that morning…
“Kinda like in the game Operation, they’re getting the water off my knee huh? Except if you hit my leg my nose won’t light up…” I laughed and he smiled and patted my good leg.
Somewhere between that moment, and the death of my phone and the disappearance of my schedule, and the loss of a close-friend, and bending my leg a full 90 degrees. i lost it.
However; The sun is shining and even though I can’t play soccer, there is a smiley face on my big toe. And I know everything’s going to be alright.
