The doctor was very, very young. Considering that it costs more, for some reason, to see a Podiatrist than a General Doctor, as well as my irritated and desperate set of mind, I was determined to get some real answers this time. No matter, how much the doc hedged and told me that they have no other treatment for this condition than just taking anti-inflammatory and doing foot exercises, I pushed and pushed. Finally, realizing that the Kaiser physician would not go anywhere that would require them do some real work for a patient, I then started to push for the physical therapy, telling him that I need something other than just an explanation of what exercises I need to do. He was too young to withstand my onslaught. He also agreed to get me a temporary disabled parking placard.
As a way to elevate my ankle and release a tendon, they tried to put a wedge of spongy material in the back of one of my shoes. When I tried to put it on - no go! The shoe now was too small for me. I was offered a post-operative shoe - basically, a sandal with velcro holding it together. It worked. So, I hobbled out of there in a hideous shoe, leaning, but awkwardly because I'm not used to it, on a cane that they provided me, stumbling with every step and squeaking from pain. I told you: I was getting more and more attractive! How will the world stand it, I don't know!