I used to think I would like to marry a doctor.  I dated two men in high school who later became doctors-psychiatrists-it figures.  One later lost his medical license due to his practice of trading drugs for sex.  The other never responded to an email I sent when his mother died.  I have had relationships with two other physicians, but they were both married.  Yes, I am far from perfect.

But, now, all I have to do is go to Target and purchase my personal doctor-well, sort of. My feet have been aching for weeks-achilles- tendon and terrible heel pain.  I treat the aches mostly with ice and what my personal doctor recommends.  That would be Dr. Scholls.

Every orthotic on the market bearing his name now resides in my home.  I stuff them into shoes, boots and even my slippers.  They provide momentary relief.  I hesitate to see a new real M.D. as I am already getting treatment for back troubles.  My lower extremities are old and tired, and I am not sure how to proceed.

I did hear an advertisement on WBAL radio for a podiatrist in Towson who treats foot pain.  I looked her up online, and will probably schedule an appointment.  So it goes for growing older-spending too much time at doctors and dentists to stave off total degeneration.

As for the doctors I wanted to marry or hook up with.  I am glad I didn’t, and for now Dr. Scholls is all I need.



About three months ago, my back began aching.  I attributed the pain to old age, poor posture or lack of exercise.  Although not the cause of the discomfort, all those possible causes are true.  I waited for a few weeks, relying on an old heating pad to cure the problem.  I had a back issue years ago, and ended up in traction in the hospital for three weeks.  I actually think at that time, the problem was psychosomatic and resulting from not wanting to attend a relative’s wedding.

So much for the past.  Here I was in early spring, having trouble bending down to tie the shoes which were advertised to help my back, grimacing with pain too often and generally convinced something was wrong with me.  So, I went to see an orthopaedic surgeon.

Secretly, I hoped to receive pain medication, but since the opioid epidemic has spiraled so greatly, none was offered.  Too bad that when we need strong pain meds, we can’t get them anymore.  Well, after the requisite x-ray, the doctor told me I had scoliosis.  News to me, since no physician had ever noticed it before.  But there it was-a curvature of the spine.  I don’t look strange, and can still walk fairly well, but the pain persists.

The physician gave me an Rx for physical therapy instead of Percocet.  For the past few weeks, I have been showing up for my sessions designed to help, if not correct, the problem.  Unexpectedly, I am enjoying the treatment.

I get lots of attention as the personnel guide me through exercises that are very easy and sort of fun.  I ride a stationary bike for ten minutes, and then perform some non-unpleasant stretches and bending.  Then, the payoff.

I get to lie on a table, attached to some wires, on heated pads, with a pillow under my knees.  The tech increases the stimulation delivered through the wires and I get to relax for fifteen minutes.  I feel so calm and peaceful just being and not doing anything, while the treatment continues.  I am sorry when the buzzer indicates that my time on the table is up.

Medicare covers the cost of my spa-like experience, and that program is wonderful  No medical bills since I enrolled.  Maybe there are some benefits to getting older.  I try to view my advancing years positively.  I am grateful to be alive, have a wonderful daughter and grandchildren, and finally the freedom to be authentically me.