I Need a Do-Over...

This week has been the week in which I single-handedly tried to keep the medical establishment in this country not just on it's feet, but highly profitable.

I had 5 doctor visits. Yes. FIVE.
A dentist. A retina specialist. (Those were both 6 months checkups and darned if they don't always fall in the same week. Those were planned.)

But then? OH. Well...remember my comment about getting a steroid shot in my foot? Well, plantar's fasciitis is a literal pain in the heel. I've been contending with this for a couple of weeks and could no longer stand limping around. Seems that people with fibromyalgia have more trouble and more pain with PF. (Of course, we have more pain with anything that comes along, why should this be different?)

So...I called my family doc for the referral. But she wanted to SEE me. And then referred me to a podiatrist. Who gave me the steriod shot that everyone knew I'd get. And told me to wear special orthotics in my jogging shoes and forget about sandals and barefeet ever again. That I would not even walk barefoot in my house from bed to bathroom in the middle of the night (yes, I have slip-on jogging shoes for that.
(sigh)

The good news is that my heel is not killing me anymore. The bad news is the orthotics are (normal, have to get used to them).

So that do-over up there? Well, I wish I could go back and have a good week!

Hmmmm...did you count those visits? I only mentioned 4 didn't I? But I told you I had 5...

Well. Today, the Calico Curmudgeon let out a series of screams - I was in the sewing room downstairs making these for the upcoming cat show:
and these to deliver at that cat show, but satisfy an order from the Star City Cat Show last month:
(no sorry all this fabric is long, long gone...but that's a Mavis Knitting bag and a Rose straight knitting needle case.)

And here is the sad lady herself...Oh? She doesn't look sad to you? Hmmm...You're right again!
This little girl is not a talker and certainly NOT a screamer. She looked pretty peaked by the time I got up the stairs to check on her (only a couple of minutes). So I gave her fluids (which she hates), and called her vet, my business client.

We rushed her over. Checked her out. Nothing. Can't find a thing wrong with her. She's scarfing down every single thing I will let her have. Roast beef. Canned fish. Kitty treats. Oh. And Catnip.
Yes, The Meezer got some of that, too...

I have no idea. But we fixed the CC. She spent the entire visit at the hospital shaking in her boots. (She HATES the vet) As her doc said tonight via email: "She knows her mean Mommie with take her back to that awful place if she acts up again!"

Yeah. Right. Mean Mommie...

I've got to go balance my checkbook now! The economy is hanging by a thread, but I'm bolstering it all I can, folks!