First, I bought a fancy racing bike – even though I'm not a bike racer. It's real pretty and fast. I'm a safe, courteous biker, unlike the masses of angry, law-braking (that's a funny pun) bikers here in SF (sorry it's true! I've seen y'all in action).
Anyways, Sunday night I'm biking to the mission, and very careful to avoid the train tracks around Church street, but like a sick cosmic magnet my tire falls into the tracks and I fall down.
BOOM. BAM.
Well, more like I fell over with my feet still clipped to my pedals.
Lucky for me this happened at a busy intersection across the street from a café, so numerous hipsters could bear witness to this tragedy.
As I lay in street bruised, broken, and totally humiliated two nice gay men picked up my bike and then me.
After I limped and cried half a block to my destination, I called my father, the doctor, who encouraged me to ice and elevate my foot. Two days later still in pain and unable to walk I experienced the complete and utter ridiculousness that is our health care system.
Let me break down how the medical profession likes to treat people with a broken foot:
See doctor on the 5th floor.
Gimp down to the 4th floor for an x-ray.
Take x-ray back up to 5th floor.
Diagnosis – your foot is messed up (sorry dad, she's right!).
Gimp over to reception.
Make appointment with Othro.
Gimp home.
Gimp back to othro with xray in hand.
Gimp back to othro with xray in hand.
(Note: this is not my foot, although we both did bust up our 5th metatarsals)
Othro doctor introduces me to his residents (yes multiple) – he thinks he's Indian George Clooney in ER's heyday. Twists my poor, swollen foot to and fro while saying blah - medical words - blah, blah to his captive female audience, as I try not to pass out/release my last meal from the pain.
Tells me I might need surgery and to come back in a week.
Another man gives me directions to place to pick up boot and crutches.
Find out no place has boot or crutches.
Get boot at Othro office.
Get crutches from friend.
Go to Starbucks, with my xray.
5 comments:
sad muffin.
Oooh, ooh, I have a poem in response to this story! Not right now, but I'll post send it to you soon!
did you alter that muffin?
hello there, i'm curious if you have any sort of info for that hipster photo? with the three next to the brick wall. i work for a magazine and we're hoping to get permission to print the photo.
jfuns - yo! thank you for reading. Unfortunately I don't have the rights to the hipster pic otherwise I'd give them to you...
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