I do not understand why things can’t be simple. I do not understand why, despite the plans I make, things must always go wrong. I just don’t get it.
J’s dentist appointment was at 2:30. School gets out at 2. We have been at this office several times, using 3 different modes of transportation:
- The lovely MBTA, green line trolley
- The lovely MBTA bus
- A taxi-cab.
The taxi cab was infinitely more expensive than the other options, and really not all that faster. But there was a time that I left the house without my wallet (b/c I am a dork) and got all the way to the girls’ school before I realized it. I would not have made it on time if I had to get J from school, walk back home, get the wallet, and then walk back past the school to the appropriate T line. The bus that makes a direct line between us and the medical area is notoriously slow, and only is scheduled to come once every 30 minutes … so add slowness to that, and I have been known to wait for up to an hour.
Today, however, I was afraid of the time crunch. So I called cab company at 12:40 and told them to pick me up at 2:10. In order to get out of the school dismissal crowd, I told them to pick me up around the corner at the library. they said fine – you’re all set.
At 2:04, J and I get to the front of the library. At 2:07, I notice that some girls flagged down a cab 1/2 way down the block and thought, “I hope that wasn’t my cab … but it’s early, so if it were, it wouldn’t take another customer.” At 2:16, I got nervous. I called the cab company. The dispatcher said, “it’ll be right there.”
At 2:22, I called again. he said, “I’ve sent two cabs! You must have gotten the address wrong!” I didn’t. I was there. On the street. He said he’d send another one.
At 2:28, we gave up and started jogging to the T station. It was a good 5 blocks away. I was not happy – I had to really fight for this dentist appointment, and if we were so late so as to count as a cancellation, J wouldn’t get her braces on as scheduled.
Fortunately, the T came right away. We only had to go one stop. I realized that I really should have done it this way from the start. But I hate waiting for trains when stressing that I’m going to be late for an appointment.
So much better waiting for a cab.
We got off the T, and had another good 4-5 blocks (long ones) to walk. I said, “come on, J, let’s run” and started off at a trot.
For about 12 steps.
Then: pop, crunch.
I turned it in a pothole on the sidewalk. It hurt so bad, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk, let alone run the last 3 blocks. It was 2:42. I stood on the other foot while waiting for the cross signal, and found that I could in fact walk. It hurt, but I could move.
We arrived at 2:50. J was seen. Separate post to follow.
When we left, we were joking that we would not take a more than one step per MINUTE after jogging to the appointment, and we were walking reeeaaaallllly slowwwwwlllly. I was glad of that, because my ankle was still throbbing.
But we walked to the T, we walked from the T to the school to get E. We walked from the school to the pharmacy to get J some tylenol because her mouth was sore. We walked home from the pharmacy. I knew my ankle was a little sore, but I didn’t feel like I couldn’t walk.
Upon getting home, I came straight to my bed with my computer (E has a friend over, and they’re watching t.v.). My ankle is THROBBING. It hurts so bad. I got up after emailing my sister to get the mail, and I could barely walk.
Great. Just great.
I am not out of shape anymore. I don’t understand why I can’t fucking walk without all the drama. I exercise every day. I hike. I walk everywhere I go. WHY OH WHY does this happen to me? Note an excerpt from a post I wrote earlier in the summer:
In November of 2002, I stumbled down the steps of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. I had on Dansko clogs, and my foot twisted onto its side in a way that [i think] pulled every single muscle and tendon in my foot. It hurt so much, I could barely walk for a week. I went to the doctor and had x-rays taken, thinking it was broken, but there were no breaks.
It’s bothered me ever since.
I have changed my shoe-buying habits since then. I often go for brands that are known for their sturdiness rather than for their fashion-quota … although I try to bridge the two. I still wear Danskos, but not that same heel, b/c I do occasionally turn my foot in them, and when I do, it sparks every bit of pain that I had on that day of the fall. I hear from many of my friends that they also turn their feet in those shoes, so then I don’t think I’m that clumsy.
See? This is a theme, and I’m really sick and tired of it.
The foot today – same foot I hurt in ’02. the shoes I had on today? Loafers. 100% flat loafers with grippies on the bottoms. They’re Borns. totally conservative and safe shoes.
Yet, here I am wondering if it’s too tacky to ask E to bring me tylenol and a glass of water when she has a friend over. Because I don’t want to get up and walk to the other room.
Because it hurts.
I will never again call a cab in this town.
I would also like to point out that this is not a side effect of not having a car. If I had a car, and if I were to take J to the dentist right after school – we would have been later than we were. Not because my car wouldn’t have picked me up, but because I would have been driving into one of the most congested parts of Boston, the medical area, with the least amount of parking. A cab could have worked (you know, if it showed up) because it doesn’t have to park. A car would not work, and driving from their school to this doctor’s office in a car that I would be required to put somewhere while inside would not have been feasible.
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