So glad you didn't listen to me :roll:...at least you got drugs and a visit from along lost pal. How funny about riding your desk chair! I have been looking for a new desk chair and had decided ti must be on wheels, swivel and be old. Now that I mention it...that chair sounds like me on roller skates.
Keep us posted... get there early and moan loudly.
Mine is on wheels, swivels, is old, brown, and banged up. Sounds like a lot of people I know at the beach!
...years of experience have taught me that a pint of Jack is much, much easier and cheaper than any trip to the ER.
Good luck with your PF...in the future, if you must, find a cardio exercise that doesn't involve being on your feet <insert saucy innuendo here>
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Harrrr...! As for the good luck, it's cured. Read on...
Well, at least you got some pain relief, NoHall. My appointment for my PF is at 2 PM. Wish me luck! My right foot feels like it has a stress fracture. When they give me a pedicure at Crystal Nails, they can feel the lumps when they do the massage.
Hope you can get an appointment with the podiatrist ASAP!
You missed what I said--the percocet didn't help AT ALL. The pain is still excruciating. But there's more to this little story:
I woke up this morning and called the podiatrist, crying. Too bad, so sad--he couldn't see me until tomorrow. Seriously? Seriously. They told me to call another one 45 minutes south of here.
I didn't know what else to do, so I called the other one. The girl who answered the phone said the doctor couldn't see me until tomorrow, but wanted all my insurance information anyway. I assumed it was so she could squeeze me in, but after keeping me on the phone forever to get all that bullsheet, she told me I needed to take an Aleve for the pain until the doctor could see me. Seriously. I told her that percocet didn't help, and she argued with me about the Aleve. Seriously. I was so angry with her that I didn't quite know what to do. She will come back into this story a bit later, if I'm not to tired to tell it.
I called my mother in hysterics and nearly heaving from the pain, and we decided to hail with podiatrists, I was going to call one of my orthopedic friends. Mom knew the office manager at his office, so I was able to bypass the desk people and cry directly to the higher ups. I got an appointment.
After going by school to pick up crutches (I can't walk on it at all) I got to the doctor's office. As luck would have it, another friend/former landscape client was in the waiting room. She said that her husband had pf that ruptured, and it turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
I said it was one heck of a disguise, but she was right.
Oddly enough, I've yet to see a doctor. The nurse practitioner saw me. He was perfect, though. He examined me and decided to go speak to a different doctor in the group who had done extensive work in foot and ankle issues. He said that I had done what they call "self-surgery." I ripped the stressed-out ligament loose from its moorings, basically. They do not reattach the plantars fascia when it detatches--it will heal itself. He said that it will most likely never bother me again. Even better--he noticed the scar on my left foot from a lawnmower accident 27 years ago. He asked if I had pf problems with it, and I said no. He said that, according to my description of the injury and the location of the scar, I cut the plantars fascia in that foot as a child and will likely never develop pf in it.
I'm in a boot (hello, Kitty!) and I'm on crutches. We can't do anything about the pain, but he said it will subside over the next couple of days. I may be on the crutches for as long as 2 weeks (when I see the doctor again), but if I can stand it I'm free to try and walk.
Meanwhile, the other doctor's office left me a message that they had reviewed my insurance information and, based on that, they had made me an appointment for tomorrow. Whaaaaat?! I wasn't applying to be a patient! I called and told them I didn't need their pucking services; I had found a real doctor. I complained about the Aleve business, and told them I would report them for it. (I know the head of the physician's groups. Most of those folks go to my church, dagnabbit.) She began explaining to me that they couldn't make an appointment until my insurance approved, blahblahblah, and I told her that I pay Blue Cross to handle that crap and I pay a doctor to take care of emergency care. She KEPT arguing with me, and arguing with me, and arguing with me, and eventually told me that SHE was the doctor I had tried to see and that SHE was the one who told me to take the Aleve this morning. I told her in colorful and elaborate terms that she's in the wrong business. I'll be speaking to her superiors tomorrow morning. I'm also calling the doctor who referred me to her.
Alright. I'm done. Y'all go cure your pf with some jumping jacks and kickboxing...
, and that didn't work. 
I am just in some pain, but nothing like you two.