The Wheel of Crotch Misfortune, Part 2

Like I said, I should be running.

Except for the pathetic minute of experimental jogging, I haven’t run in three weeks, since the wheel of crotch misfortune began spinning. Instead of donning my running shirt and shorts, slipping on my running shoes, and driving to my route when I return from work, all I do is sit on my ass. I read or write, but would much rather be pounding the pavement. It’s my running time.

Like an out of control Tilt-A-Whirl, the wheel of crotch misfortune has continued spinning. I am no closer to a diagnosis, or knowing how best to recuperate (except sit on my ass), than I was when I first felt the mysterious discomfort down in my excitable region. I think it may be osteitis pubis, the inflammation of the pubic symphysis, the cartilaginous joint uniting the left and right pubic bones. However, I won’t know for sure until next Wednesday…hopefully.

Here’s one of the disadvantages of living in a highly populated area: Want to schedule a doctor’s appointment? Need to see a specialist? How does next Thursday work for you?

The first time I called my primary care doctor was about two years ago. I woke one morning very dizzy. No matter what I did I couldn’t steady myself or stop the world from spinning, so I called to schedule an appointment. The receptionist asked, “How about next Thursday?”

What? Next week? Bitch, I’m dizzy now!

All I could do was suffer through it and wait a week. (By then, of course, the dizziness had dissipated.)

I saw the doctor one or two more times after that and had similar scheduling experiences. However, there may be a better explanation than just overcrowding: I’m pretty sure they prioritize their patients. When I called about my crotch misfortune, I told them I thought I had a hernia.

“How about eleven forty-five?”

“You mean today?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there.”

Here’s a word of warning, guys: a hernia examination is…an experience. Wow. Talk about being poked and prodded in a sensitive place.

The good news was I apparently don’t have a hernia, at least of their inguinal type (thank God). To be certain, though, my doc referred me to a specialist who will make another, and hopefully gentler, examination. (A X-ray would be nice, too.) The bad news, though, was I had to wait two weeks for the referral to arrive in the mail; it first needed to be approved by the insurance Gods.

Awesome. I wonder how many people die in this country because they’re stuck in the bureaucratic backlog of referrals, or because they can’t schedule a doctor’s appointment soon enough (or at all).

But, that debate’s over. Very timely, Quiet Man.

I’m watching the Twins-Tigers game on ESPN, and a Dick’s Sporting Goods commercial about National Runners Month (which is just a marketing ploy) just played. Grrr! What do I need? A healthy crotch.