Following Doctors' Orders

Preface:  I have as much use for doctors as I do protractors.

I rarely go to the doctor.  In fact when I do it is usually at the insistence of my better half because she thinks it best that a doctor determine how much damage I’ve done to myself ‘this time.’

For instance there was that time in the early ‘80’s when my left knee was causing me so much pain—probably due to me taking up running in 1978 and putting in far too many miles than were good for me at that early stage of my running career—when Doctor Frankenstein gave me a cortisone injection in the muscle directly beneath my knee cap (much more painful than the pain caused by running, I might add) and instructed me not to run for a day or two.  So what did I do next?  I stopped at the local high school track on the way home (yes, from the doctor’s office) to give my knee a test drive to see if the injection had worked its magic.  Sorry to report: It didn’t.  If a doctor ever points a needle loaded with cortisone in your direction, do yourself a favor and run—even if you have a sore left knee.    

Then there was the time in the early ‘90’s after I did something (much too dumb to get into here) that resulted in so much pain in my left shin I wound up in Doctor Jekyll’s office.  He promptly diagnosed it as a stress fracture, put my left leg in an air cast and told me not to run for at least a week.  I’ll admit my runs the next three days were painful as well as painfully short, but on the fourth day I ran virtually pain-free.  Time heals all wounds, right?

Then there was the time I had cataract surgery and Doctor Johnny Fever told me not to run for a few days while my eye healed.  Since he was well aware of my running streak I asked (more as a courtesy, actually because there was no way I wasn’t running) if it would be OK if I ran ‘really, really easy and made sure my head didn’t bounce.’  He conceded and I’m here to tell you my eye was never any worse for the wear.

Then there was the time about 10 years ago when I did something much dumber than what I did about 20 years prior (I’d rather not talk about it) and Doctor Scholl told me to ‘stay off my left foot and let it heal.’  Since he also was well aware of my running streak I asked (again, out of courtesy) if it would be OK if I ran ‘really, really easy and made sure my right foot took most of the impact.’  He conceded and I’m here to tell you to this day my left foot is no worse for the wear.    

Then just this week I went to see my General Practitioner Marcus Welby for a suspected hernia beneath my naval, the result of either (don’t laugh) running over 150 miles in an event a month ago, carrying a heavy piece of furniture up two flights of stairs two weeks ago and/or maintaining the horizontal leg lifts I do every day for much too long (one of my special talents that also includes wiggling my ears and falling asleep at the drop of a hat).  The good doctor said it appeared the hernia was trying to heal itself but that I should see a surgeon just to make sure.  He may have mentioned it might be something else that started with an ‘a’ and had three--maybe four syllables but I forgot exactly what because I wasn’t really listening.  However, if he also happened to mention it may be life-threatening, it’s not that I forgot but rather because I have a really, really bad memory and in this particular case a potentially very short life expectancy.    

Time for a comedic interlude:

 I told the doctor I thought the hernia was about the size of a marble.

After he inspected it he told me it was much, much larger than a marble, perhaps as much as four or five millimeters wide.

 I asked him how wide four or five millimeters was and he held two fingers about ¼ inch apart…slightly less than the width of a marble.

   Doctor Welby – Countless years of higher education; no knowledge of marbles.    

Me – ‘C’ in high school biology; intrinsic knowledge of marbles.

Doctor Welby, a long-distance cyclist who was well aware of my running streak didn’t even wait for me to ask whether or not I could run.  He may have said something like ‘take it easy, limit yourself to fun runs and 5K’s and don’t run any up hills.’ Then again it’s hard to say because this time I can say for sure: I wasn’t really listening.

So for the sake of argument let’s just say he told me to keep doing what I’ve always done since he knew damn well I had every intention of doing just that. 

As it has many times before, time heals all wounds in the long run.