If you ask your husband to hang a picture and he hands you a hammer and nail, does that mean “No”?
I suspect he is tired of coddling me. {sigh}
*******
“Just don’t move,” said the MRI technician as she walked away. The table and I, with my left foot firmly clamped in a flexed position, moved into the opening. As the light flashed and the machine started doing its thing, I realized that one toe on my left foot was feeling itchy. Somehow I managed to distract myself.
I had hoped to take a nap, but I had not realized how obnoxiously noisy the thing is. Loud humming would have been fine; that’s about what my house sounds like most days anyway. But the rhythmic and arrhythmic banging had me thinking that somebody needed to be redirected to a quieter activity. Nonetheless, I must have managed to start to doze because the tech came in and chastised me for moving, and I had to do the last scan again.
Fully alert, I noticed that itch again.
*******
Today, the doctor called with the results. According to the MRI, I have cellulitis. I momentarily wondered if they did lyposuction of feet.
“Do you have a red rash on your foot or leg?” asked my doctor. I looked down past my cut off jeans to my bare feet. “No,” I answered.
“Fever? Hot flashes?”
Now I suddenly felt middle aged. Lyposuction and menopause all at once. “No,” I said again.
The doctor then said something else, which I more or less understood to mean that since I had no symptoms of a bacterial skin infection, she was not going to give me antibiotics, but that I should call her at once, even at her home, if I should develop a fever or a rash. OK, then. I’ve been checking my temperature hourly.
She also said that I had fluid in my ankle and she was going to refer me to a podiatrist. Interesting. My ankle has not been hurting me over the last four years.
In fact, since I decided to run the Ten Miler and have been dutifully doing my training program, I have felt very little foot pain. Today I ran nearly 3 miles and only stopped because I was tired and because I had to start school. It’s hard to believe that a month ago, I was convinced I would never run again.
God is good. I asked Him to fix my foot, and so far, He has. I really can’t complain about His methods.
******
Being a strong woman is all fine and dandy, but why do it if you don’t have to? Well, I suppose to avoid annoying a husband who is tired of hanging pictures when he knows you are perfectly capable with a hammer.
My “friend, with a deployed husband, who lives down the street” called tonight and asked for help because a bird had flown into her house. I told her my husband would be right down. I suppose I could have offered her some suggestions or gone down myself to cheer her on, but it just seemed like a job perfectly suited for a man.
When he returned, successful in the task, I thanked him and told him that there were many many nights when he was gone that I cried because I had had to be self-sufficient all.day.long. I just wanted to spare my friend one instance of doing her husband’s job. He nodded. I hope he understands.
I suspect, though, that the more times I send him down there, the more often he’ll be handing me the tools to do my own requests over here.
Reit This Way 