So I called a podiatrist yesterday to make an appointment about some foot pain I've been experiencing for, oh, about 8 months. They said the earliest time they could get me in was March 14th. I thought that after having waited so long to see someone in the first place, a little longer wouldn't matter so much, but the prospect of having a resource and not being able to take advantage of it for over another month was extremely distressing.

So imagine my delight when I got off work last night (an hour early!!!) and they called me just as I came off the Bay Bridge to ask if I could come in right then. I went in, stripped my feet (and swung them around a lot as I went through all the excuses I could come up with for why they were in the condition they were) and had them examined.

Turns out I have Plantar Fasciitis. Not a heel spur, just damage to the Plantar Fascia. Recovery is going to take 3-6 months, super-advanced equipment like a tennis ball and a bag of frozen peas, and several pairs of new shoes.

My parents have been racking their brains trying to come up with a good gift for my birthday. I think a shopping trip with my mom will be the perfect solution for everyone.

Tonight? The dentist!!