Podiatry Follow Up
Getting to the podiatry clinic was a little challenging as my phone’s GPS couldn’t quite keep up with where we were, bossing me to take turns immediately after passing the targeted street. This caused us to kinda circle the building we were aiming for. Once the building was identified, I had to find parking. Not always an easy task in our metropolitan area! This made mom a touch sassy. She couldn’t figure out why we kept making left turns, and then drove away from the building after finding it! Explaining crappy satellite reception didn’t help her understand…
As we walked the short block and a half (mom without her cane!!) to the clinic, mom asked me sharply, “Where are we going!?” I replied, “To the doctor.” She huffily said, “I know that!! Where are we going?!” She needed a step by step rundown of where we were going. My next reply was, “To the corner, there (while pointing).” She asked this two more times before reaching the door of the clinic building.
Reception had mom’s Island address in their records. Rather than verbally change their records, and risk upsetting mom, I handed them my driver’s license saying, this is the address you want for billing, while quietly indicating that mom was in assisted living. The gal smiled, getting it. I am constantly amazed at how smooth, kind and professional folks are surrounding the subtleties of these sorts of interactions. It’s the new place in which one holds dignity for the patient.
A nurse ushered us back to an exam room and took mom’s vitals. She was solicitous to the point of being a little sticky. Mom didn’t respond well to the nurse’s repeated offers of, “May I assist you with that?” Mom was asked if she wanted assistance repeatedly as the nurse would ask her to sit down (take off her shoe, her brace, her sock, every move you can imagine needs making in an exam room), and mom wouldn’t respond. So the gal asked mom if she wanted help, repeatedly, and mom got annoyed. Mom’s last shot, after being asked if she’d like assistance taking off her brace, was, “What makes you think I need assistance? I just walked a half a mile here!! I don’t need assistance!!” The nurse was ducking out of the room, and gave me a wide eyed look. I gave her a wink, and turned to mom with, “She asked you to take off the brace, and you didn’t, so she was being polite by offering you some help. Go easy on people, mom.” Mom sniffed, “Oh, I didn’t hear her.”
The doctor was delighted with mom’s progress. He and I tried to tag team her into continuing PT, but she’d have none of it, saying that there was nothing PT was doing for her that walking couldn’t accomplish. I even ‘admitted’ as to how PT had done me a world of good on more than one occasion, having injured myself here and there. That caused her to dig her heels in further… Saying she and the therapist had already decided she didn’t need to continue. I later found out this was not true! I asked the doctor for shoe recommendations. He was of two minds, saying that the correct shoe for mom’s collapsed arch (something I didn’t know she had), was contra indicated to good balance, being able to feel the floor through the sole of the shoe. In describing a heavier shoe good for arch support, mom defiantly said, “I WILL NOT wear a big clunky shoe!!” Without skipping a beat, the doc picked up mom’s shoe and showed us all the reasons why they’re actually just perfect for her. Having the wind taken from her sails, she smiled and said, “Well of course, and they’re purple too!”
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