Saturday, August 18, 2007

Not Walking

Okay, I think it was about a week ago that I got the bright idea that I was going to walk a little bit more each day until I was able to walk a marathon. I figured what harm could that do since walking was one of my allowable exercises? The first day I went out, I was in a bit of pain, but what's unusual about that, right? I have lupus. Life hurts, so I just deal. In particular, my left foot was causing me tremendous discomfort. In general, I usually have pain whenever I do any sort of exercise, so I figured that with time, it would get better. The second day, the pain got worse, and then the third day, my foot turned purple.

I thought, well that's a good sign that there's something wrong. I decided it was time to go see my rheumatologist. When I told him what was going on with my foot, he looked at it and said, arthritis. Okay, now we go into a sidebar about being black and going to the doctor. People go through all these surveys, statistics, and theories about why black people don't get as successful medical treatment as whites. They say that it's social, economical, blah, blah, blah, but do you honestly want to know what it is? White doctors have a hard time recognizing unusual symptoms in black people. I honestly believe that my doctor couldn't see the discoloration in my foot. Before I was diagnosed with lupus, I first noticed the butterfly rash on my face. I went to the doctor, and he said he didn't see it. I went to two other doctors and they said they didn't see it either. I asked my husband if he saw it, and he said, "no." I was starting to think I was crazy until I went to my therapist, and I walked through the door, and she said, "Oh my gosh. What's wrong with your face?" I said, "You see it? She said, "Katerina. It's as plain as day. You have a red mask sitting right across your cheeks." I wanted to kiss her.

Anyway, my rheumatologist said he didn't think there was anything wrong with my foot, and there was no need to x-ray it. I was dubious. I've been suffering from arthritis for years, and this didn't feel like arthritis, so I called my primary care doctor. My primary care doctor looked at my foot and said that it didn't look that unusual to him. He suggested that I may have sprained it, and told me to go home and put ice on it. He said that he would x-ray it and call me on Monday to let me know.

When I got home from the doctor, my son said, "Hey Mom. Your doctor called. He said your foot is fractured and that you needed to go in on Monday for an PSD, MND, or something." I responded, "An MRI." He said, "Yeah that." I said, "Are you sure he said it was broken?" My son is bipolar, schizophrenic and ADD, so in theory, the doctor could have said anything. It's possible the doctor didn't call at all, and my son is having a psychotic break, but not very likely. But my son responded, "No. He didn't say it was broken. He said FRACTURED." I love my son. "Anyways Mom. He said that he thinks there's something more going on than a fracture and you needed to stay off it and get that MRI thing, so go to bed and tell me to bring you stuff."

So it looks like my walking a marathon is put on hold for now. Quite honestly, I never really expected that I'd have the ability to walk a marathon. It was just a nice little goal to set for myself. In my mind, I'm this fantastic person, who does all these amazing things. I always like to live my life like I'm working toward being that fantastic person.

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