Before jetting off to sun myself on a Caribbean cruise last week, my podiatrist had me get myself an MRI.
I did it on Thursday, and begged the technician to have the doctor give my doctor a “wet read,” which is a rough draft of the results, so I’d know what I was dealing with while I was away.
Needless to say, my luck is crap. So the MRI clinic’s doctor was unable to get in touch with my doctor before I left on Sunday. So I went about my merry way, tossing my small stiff-soled boot into my suitcase in case my doctor was able somehow reach me in the middle of the ocean and tell me to hop back in the boot.