The Amazing Shrinking Blog.

Lots of meltage out there today. With my ankle sore, I’m only too happy to see the ice vanish into little puddles that drain all the way to the Gulf of Mexico via the Mississippi watershed.

My usual doctor, whose office is conveniently located about five minute’s drive from where I live, had no time for me yesterday, but one of his partners did. My regular doc is about my age, bleary-eyed, and not very comfortable with small talk. I don’t mind that. Best that doctors, and barbers for that matter, stick to business.

Had a bit of a wait, of course. Waiting rooms of this kind offer a cautionary tale: namely, don’t get old. (But how?) Yesterday was particular busy, with a generally elderly crowd plus a contingent of younger, well-dressed people. After a few minutes, I realized that this younger crew was made up of pharmaceutical salespeople. I can only imagine the largess stuffed in their pockets and bulging out of their briefcases. It’s invisible to the eye, but I know it’s there.

Waiting rooms also offer magazines that you usually don’t read anywhere else. In this case, magazines put out by the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals — something I’ve never found in any waiting room before. Who put them there? The receptionist? One of the nurses? One of the doctors? Or are they all PETA supporters in that office? I forgot to check to see if any of the staff was wearing leather. Some of the staff would have to work awfully hard at vegetarianism to become as big as they are, but still…

I didn’t examine the PETA publications this time, but I did during my last visit in December (for a checkup). They’re more interesting for their tone than the actual written content. The subtext of the magazines is this: if we had power, we would ban meat eating and other barbarous practices involving animals. If you disagree with that policy, we will build re-education camps and put you there. On a macrobiotic starvation diet.

My substitute doctor, also bleary-eyed but a decade or so older, probed my left foot with his fingers. “This hurt?” No. “This?” No. “How about this?” ARGH!

Perhaps torn ligaments. A sports injury, it sounds like to me. Yes, I had a skating accident. He gave me an ankle supporting-type wrapping-device to wrap around my ankle, and wrote a note to get me an x-ray at a place called the DuPage Imaging Institute. Or was it the Imaging Institute of DuPage?

Anyway, I went there and soaked up some rays. Roentgen rays, that is. Results due soon. More on that tomorrow.