Every single person who heard I had an appointment about my foot/leg said "good!" with surprising emphasis. On the way in I told Middle, "even though sitting here it hurts when I flex it I'm still afraid they will think I'm a whiner or a baby or a faker." Never one to mince words, he said, "that's crazy, Mom." I know. Being the kid who was part of a fair bit of Munchausens By Proxy really skews one's perspective.
After all the fuss ahead of time it took 2 hrs to find out I have the peroneal tendinitis I diagnosed the day I first got pain...but at least I now have Toradol i.e. Ketorolac i.e. very strong NSAID which severely opiate intolerant I call "the good stuff." Also prescriptions for x ray and an ominous-sounding "orthopedic boot." Nobody thought I was a whiner or a baby or faking it: when the attending came in she was still a couple feet away when she said "oh yeah I see the swelling" and I was -offered- both a work note and narcotic painkiller, neither of which I took.
Energy still low but finally ironed the fabric I've been wanting to do since Saturday...but wisely decided not to attempt pattern layout and cutting yet tonight: much better to wait till I'm less tired.
Oh! Almost forgot: wanted to mention that I have noticed that I am better able to keep track of little trivial things these days. Like "oh yeah there was a spot on that shirt I wanted to spritz with the spray stuff" when loading laundry into the washer. Or remembering grocery items not on the list. Nothing all that important but still. Also I don't seem to be chalking things up to "well, stress" nearly as often either. I don't have -proof- that staying sober is the reason but I do think that's at the root of it. One more thing in the "plus" column.