I literally hobbled into work today. Normally after long runs, I have stretched tendons or sore ligaments and my walk is less than rhythmic. Today, though, every step wobbled induced a piercing pain at the top of my foot. Noting my disfigured facial expressions as my toes graced the ground, the school nurse (a onetime doctor in Peru) called me into his office. We've had a handful of morning sessions together this year due to the heightened frequency of my long runs. He uses his fingers as methodic drum sticks on my feet, massaging the tendons and ligaments until they are near painless. Today, he repeated the magical motions and asked "pain? pain? pain?" as he tapped my tendons into place. Every session prior to this morning's ended with a much less painful foot and a straighter walk. Today, though, I squirmed off his table and stepped on my foot only to find the pain was still as potent as it was before the doctor started tick tocking it.
I sleuthed out of the nurse's room and was immediately greeted by two counselors. They gasped in horror when they saw me walking, the inquiries started immediately. Stress induced tears formed in my eye as I recalled the events of the weekend, my swollen body, and the stinging pain at the top of my foot. As my eyes narrowed in anger at another running related injury, their eyes softened in sympathy. I left dragging my left leg as their resounding "let us know if you need anythings" comforted me down the hall to my morning duty.
Moments later, the two of them shuffled to my classroom door like middle school girls wanting to tell me about their newest crush. The giddiness in their demeanor was slightly disconcerting considering my condition. Before I could ask any questions, they told me my principal made a doctor's appointment at the local medical clinic for me to get an X-ray recommendation.
An hour later, my principal accompanied a substitute teacher to my classroom and offered to drive me to the doctor. I promised him that my driving foot was fine, but it took serious persuading for him to allow me to take make the trip independently. I left school enlightened by the circle of generosity that surrounded me at work.
My enlightened spirit, however, dissipated quickly between 3 three hours of waiting in two separate (15 miles apart) medical clinics (one for a recommendation, the other for the x-ray), and a lethargic pharmacy worker who, after promising me "my size" crutches could only provide ones that befitted a full grown man. In the respites away from people, driving from one clinic to the other, stopping at the pharmacy in the time between, I cussed and demanded the Universe tell me why I lived in a place that had healthcare that seemed similar to that in a developing country. I was angry and every effort to calm myself ended in a rapid heartbeat and a less than satisfied soul.
After being away from work for nearly 4 hours, I returned to school with crutches that were far too big and a disheartened spirit.
My students in my 8th period jumped at any opportunity to help me, I didn't even have to ask them. As I stumbled around picking up garbage while they completed their first assignment, they watched me carefully, prepared to hop up and save me if I misstepped. Soon, many of them were on their own feet, organizing desks alongside me and passing back last week's assignments to their classmates. Each offer of help washed away the layers of annoyances piled on me by my morning de doctors.
As soon as the final bell of the day rang, I crutched out to my car only to return to the doctor in order to deliver my X-ray CD to him. Different from my first visit, I was hurried back to a patient room almost immediately. The doctor came in, diagnosed a foot fracture, and demanded I rest until I didn't feel pain anymore. When I told him my students would have a crabby teacher if I couldn't run, he laughingly suggested I try swimming or biking instead. We exchanged a few jokes as he wrapped my foot. As I started to depart the clinic, he looked at my crutches, baffled by their size. I graphically detailed my experience at the pharmacy, ending with an obviously exhausted sigh. He ended up buying the crutches from me (even though I insisted I would happily donate them) and led me to a place that would positively have "my size" crutches.
It was impossible to be angry anymore. As I drove home from the medical supply company who provided my crutches, I reflected on how kind people were to me today. I'm the least deserving of such kindness, I so easily get this "I shouldn't have to wait two hours for the doctor" attitude instead of realizing how lucky I am that I even have a professional who can diagnose such a small ailment. Today, people were too good to me, these are the people that inspire me to be better, to be kinder, to love more.
My community, Roma, is far too patient with me, far too kind to me. It teaches me that loving people is giving sin expectations of anything in return.
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