Let Them Be

Today, I am venturing to the doctor to check out my mysterious issues with my delightful ankle. It really isn’t delightful. It is more like an angry toddler who is acting like an asshole. Because I have Googled and WebMD the shit out of my symptoms, I have done some tweaking to my diet as there are certain foods that can exasperate the issue. I know what you are thinking. You are baffled since I haven’t exactly been given a “diagnosis”, but I trust my medical savvy, because, I do have an MFA in writing.

My plan is do go into the exam room and hear him out as he probably has his own thoughts on this matter. Maybe we can agree to disagree. Or, maybe, my diagnosis is correct and we can high-five each other because I am so brilliant. Okay, that might not happen. After all, whatever anger issues my ankle has, may not be what I have Googled. Wait for it. I might be WRONG. Yikes.

I just want answers. I just want to be able to sleep through the night without waking up and muttering a string of sentence enhancers. I want to eat chicken again. I know, that was random, but it is one of the foods that can aggravate Gout, which is the diagnosis that I have given myself. It is hereditary as my father had it an abundance of times. Sure, I don’t have all the underlying physical issues that he had, but my symptoms match.

I hope they have a margarita machine in the doctor’s lounge as he might need a little liquor courage to get through my appointment. Kidding, I am open to his expertise. I don’t want his twelve years of education go to waste simply because I have scoured the internet for answers. More will be revealed. I am just a woman, with an angry ankle, waiting for answers.

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