Today we headed down to the city to visit my pain doctor at Rush because I’ve been experiencing pain in my lower back for a few months. We gave ourselves an hour and forty-five minutes to get there and we were five minutes late due to an emergency potty-break and an accident on the Eisenhower near Harlem. At the peak of my gridlock stress as we inched forward I think I uttered, “JUST FUCKING GO ALREADY! I can’t stand this shit. Goddamnit!” Suffice to say, I don’t care much for traffic.
Anyway, we made it and when I finally answered to the receptionist, nurse, and resident doctor, I was finally reunited with my doctor. Our masked faces met and our eyes locked. I heard a piano, Hello by Adele began to play inside my head. Being the professional my doctor is and the fact that we weren’t alone in my room — my wife, kid, Abbott representative, doctor-in-training, and some other guy asking for my doc’s signature during my appointment (how rude) — we got down to business.
Yes doctor, I fell [for you]. Oh, lay down on the gurney? Here? You really do like my shoes? Relax my knee? For you, anything. Does that hurt, you ask? Yes, but no worries, I feel safe. Oh, I need a sacroiliac joint injection? Tell me more!..and then I saw the ring on his left hand. 💔! Like the abrupt zipper-like sound of a needle being forcibly removed from the Adele record I had turning in my head, my fantasy was dead.
Trying to hide my disappointment, I changed the subject by asking about my possible two-fer deal of a nerve block and battery charge all packaged into a single surgical procedure. Dr. Taken told me insurance wouldn’t allow that and said I probably had at least two more years of battery-life left in my stimulator. I scheduled my injection for next month and was given a script for an x-ray to rule out a fracture in my pelvis. We fist bumped and that’s when I realized that I’d have to settle for only a bromance going forward.
To avoid another unnecessary trip downtown, we decided to get the x-ray of my pelvis done before heading to Chinatown for lunch. The radiologist had an opening and saw me within the hour. While that worked out for the best, my mood quickly soured because I didn’t find any suitable throwing stars to purchase during our visit to Chinatown. Nor mogwai. Not even a Jack Burton sighting. However, I did keep a watchful eye out for David Lo-Pan since my wife has green eyes.
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