February 26, 2002
Shin Splints My Ass

**Warning** If you are sensitive or take offense to any cursing, just skip this entry, man.

So. Went to the doctor's office today. Handed me the diagnosis sheet...

FUCK. I do not have a stress fracture. Nothing even like it. You can't know how pissed I am. Shin splints. Fuckin' shin splints.

The diagnosis meant this: "She's been experiencing constant pain."

No shit! I've been saying this for a year! This is exactly what I've been telling everyone who would listen since last year. "I can't do that, I'm in pain." And to doctors: "It's just constant pain at all times, but especially when running."

I've waited a year for some results. And this is what they give me.

'That's bull!' I proclaim aloud.

My mom just stares at me for a second. In my head I'm thinking, "Shit, I pushed it too far... bull was too strong... stop looking... stop it..." And then she looked back down at her paper.

Honestly, I was choking back tears. I was so pissed. I wanted to just punch someone. The doctor came in to discuss it with me.

'So, you understand what it's saying?' he asked, looking over the sheet.

'Yeah.'

'But she's not pleased,' my mom said. 'In fact, she seems pretty angry about all this.'

'Angry? Why are you angry, you have no fracture.'

Trying not to sound all choked up, I struggle, 'Because it's just repeating what I've been saying since May - yeah, it hurts me a lot.'

'This isn't just some throw-away excuse now,' he tells me. 'I mean, this is a reason. Shin splints.'

I asked to read the diagnosis again. Screw this, what bull shit.

'I'm going to get you real treatment for this. I'm getting you physical therapy. And I mean, this is real treatment. There's this woman, Terri, and she's very good at this kind of thing, she deals with runners all the time.'

I nodded, and he frowned.

'This is really a good thing, you know. It's relieving you have this rather than a tumor --'

'I was actually thinking about that,' my mom agreed. 'I was keeping that in the back of my mind, you know, kinda like "Oooh, could it be cancerous maybe..." But I never told her that, of course.'

I sat there in shock. OK, first leukemia, now cancer/tumor? Maaaarvelous. Fuckin marvelous.

I never smiled once. I never really replied to him either. Just nodded with a square jaw. He probably noticed, but who cares. Not me, that's for sure. We left the office, and I punched a few walls on the way out.

In the car, I asked my mom, 'Why didn't you tell me you thought it was cancer?'

'Well why would you want to know?'

'Cause I think I should know!'

'Oh, you wanted to think about cancer for two weeks?'

'No I just need to think about something.'

Stupid, don't say that. Stupid stupid stupid idiot.

Ahhhhh I don't know. I'm just pissed. I'm finding that I like to skip complete parts of my dialogue lately; mainly because I'm lazy and tired and my eyes hurt and my legs hurt and bleh.

- Molly the One Who Is Too Lazy To Think Of Anything Clever Here{8:23 pm}

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