At my recent annual physical with my primary care physician, I had a few agenda items to bring up.  One of these items was my painful bunions.  They have annoyed me for years, but I kept quiet.  Okay, I’ll admit it . . . I feared the possible surgery.  But suffering overcame trepidation and I talked frankly about it with my doctor.

He said his office would refer me to a podiatrist.  Sure enough, just a couple of hours later the phone rang.  It was the podiatrist’s office assistant.  We set up a time for the next week, which was last week.  I wrote the time on the calendar and thanked her.

Appointment day came and Sylvia went with me.  I walked in and at the desk was greeted with, “I expected you an hour and a half ago.”  “Why did you tell me this time then” was my response.  She made a call and assured me that everything would work out.  I thanked her and handed her the forms I had finished at home.  I had another to do there, which was quickly done.

Another assistant took me to a room and did an interview with me while typing answers into her computer.  Then we went to another room, where she took X-rays of my feet.  Then she left me in the first room to wait with Sylvia for the podiatrist.

Not my foot. Mine are worse–much worse.

A short while later, an energetic man with slightly less hair than me (though it was considerably darker than mine) walked briskly into the examining room.  He flashed a big grin, stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Dave.”

“Ahh, I’m Chuck.”  What else could I say?

The informality was a first.  I might have been tempted to take him less seriously if I hadn’t checked out his credentials online before the visit.  He is for real.  I’ve got to love that.  Right?

More talk and careful examination of the feet and a review of the X-rays.  He answered all of my questions.  Before I left, he gave me an steroid injection in each bunion.  For hours they seemed not to help, but the next few days were marked by blessed relief from the chronic pain.

No decisions last week, we’ll talk about what’s next when I see him Wednesday morning.  I’m looking forward to that visit.

But I do have a problem. 🙁   When Sylvia and I returned home, I checked the calendar.  The office assist was right.  I was an hour and a half late.  What should I do?  Should I tell the assistant that she was right and I was wrong?  Or do I pretend that something else happened?  What would you do?