Friday, May 7, 2010

The McSteamy

image from

Okay, so the feet are playing up again. Which is a bugger, because I basically need them to do anything and everything - one of the main things being making my dosh - something I very much look forward to doing again! Anyway, whilst contemplating going to see another podiatrist, I remembered my first visit in London a few years back...

So I manage to find a squack close to my area of work, so that I could take a lunch break (heavens!) and fix the problem that are my feet. Rushing through Waterloo station to find the correct train (and I have to be sure, this is a 15 minute direct one...) I pondered the cost of this exercise. I was not entirely sure of how much it would all cost, but then I had no clue about this sort of thing - the word "consultation" to me simply means there will be hundreds of costs after a chat/consultation. But then, when it comes to health, well one doesn't really have a choice, does one?

As I entered the doctors room I was glad, very glad, I owned a credit card. I was not however happy with my choice of socks that morning. Here's the picture:
- incredibly smart and oh so techno room, computers and boxes of intelligent life everywhere
- one chair, for me
- one chair, in front of the computer, for the doctor
- me, looking flustered and out of place in two different coloured socks and trashy red toe nails...
- the doctor. the doctor. just... quite.... beautiful.....

I had to take in a lung full of what I hoped was class A oxygen to steady myself, this doctor was rather good-looking. No, sorry, incredibly good looking. Just mighty damn fine actually. Okay, more than one deep breath. He spoke well, his deep concern for my pain was intoxicating. I simply melted on the spot.

The rest I forget. All I can find in my memory bank is an image of this doctor. Sure - he gave me inner soles, mentioned something about my feet 'not being quite right' (no shit, sherdoc), and a couple of mumbles. The rest I forget.

Oh - forgive me - I remember the cost. Only GBP400 later and I have absolutely no idea what is wrong with my feet, why they ache constantly and what to do about them. And - importantly - why these inner soles will not fit in half the shoes I wear everyday.

So I find myself in a bit of a pickle when it comes to booking my next podiatrist appointment, I don't have another 400 quid and I certainly haven't had any memory enhancements which would make it all seem like a sensical move.

I think I may just have to put my feet up for a bit, with a cuppa.


1 comment:

  1. This man is the reason I am home on a Monday evening (when in SA) or a Tuesday evening (when in Dar). Dont try to call me or come over - i will not speak to you! Love him, love them, love Grey's! Hibiscus, if I find a foot doctor like him, I want to have more than two left feet...i wanna be ALL feet! ;-)