I’ve decided to finally seek professional help. Yes I’ve been absent more often than not and can’t seem to string together enough words to tell an amusing story. Sure I’m still involved in things many people think I need help with including fueling my entire perverted existence with caffeine, loud music, rough sex and the occasional good night’s sleep. Sure my vocabulary is still questionable at best and rarely can I maintain my full out Zen mode which means I retreat to being an aggressive jerk. All that aside it’s not the type of professional help you might be thinking or the type I more than likely need but its professional help none the less…well maybe. So here we go!

Recently somewhere in the middle of my completely fucked up and chaotic life I had an Epiphany of sorts…or was her name Charity or wait a second I think it was Katie…anyhow. Somewhere between the Belgium accents and pissed off Germans who call me in the middle of the fucking night added to the Aussies who don’t realize there are only a handful of things I’m good at after 9 pm my time and none of them are by and large anything that would relate to business or be considered productive to society as a whole I came to the conclusion that I need to start doing things I enjoy again, running being one of them. Maybe I should put an after hours voice mail on the cell.

“Hi you’ve reached Malflic and its fucking late. Odds are I’m sleeping, drinking, fucking or involved in some other fun but completely deviant activity. Please leave your name and number and I’ll gladly call you back when I put the flogger, cane, or ball gag down”

While I readily admit to being a sadist on a lot of levels there are those hidden qualities that border on other things like masochism. No I’m not going all switch on anyone but the fact remains I’ve been living with and running on a sore foot for more than a year. I’d rather suffer than see a doctor…it’s not a pride thing, it’s not a get off on the pain thing. Maybe its stupidity but I say it’s because I’m intolerant of the medical world’s BS.

BTW If you do get off on the pain of plantar facetious I think you need more help than any podiatrist can offer and I’m not even sure if that’s really an official kink by anyone’s standards. I’ve been around the block shattered a few pure souls and all pain is not the same so spare me that argument. So finally as I decide to sign up for a summer race series and a fall half marathon in addition to new shoes there’s the need to finally get the damn foot looked at.

In my world there are things I do myself and always will. I don’t trust anyone to book my travel for instance. Not my admin, not the Chesty Blonde, Not God or the Devil – No one, no exceptions. And there are things I try never to do…order Pizza over the phone (apparently I have an accent no one who works in a Pizza shop can understand), order at the drive through window of a fast food place if I’m not the one eating (too many special orders. I have neither the desire not the capacity to keep them all straight) or schedule doctor visits.

I ask the Blonde to call and set me up. She offers me the phone number citing my every changing schedule. I suggest I’ll have my admin call – she tells me “that’s stupid and selfish do it your self”

So standing in the kitchen one morning I call at 8:00 am – they don’t open until 9 I bitch about it. She tells me I’m impatient. I call back at 9 and get an automated attendant which is nothing more than a machine that reads me 6 options none of which apply to me and I hit 0 for operator. The fucking thing hangs up on me. I go into a tirade and then call back. The Blonde looks mystified at me. She knows the man she lives with and the prick I am in my professional life are two very different people, its rare she sees that prick type but she begins to get the idea and a refresher.

I call back and choose the “I want to pay my bill” option. I know damn well that if nothing else folks want to get paid and it’s my best chance to get a live person. A live person who then gives me a different number to call to schedule an appointment. Proceed to tell him his phone system sucks and its bullshit I have to call a different number. He hangs up on me and I call scheduling, they put me on hold and never pick back up. I decide fuck it. And call from three more phones since I’m pissed in an attempt to ties up most of their lines. I put them all on speaker and wait…and wait…and wait. In the mean time I look up the Doc’s resume on line…oh he went to Harvard! Big fucking deal Hammer’s dad taught at MIT for decades, I got in to Columbia and fucked more future doctors than Bill Clinton did Arkansas trail park whores (though it might be close).

That’s when part two of the Epiphany hit…Fuck it. I call Corporate big shots , Lawyers and CEO’s every god damn day. All of whom know me and they either answer the phone or have someone who does without putting me on hold for 12 minutes.

I decide to be my own God put on my running shoes and head out the door. At mile 2.25 I run by a medical complex and spot three different foot and ankle specialists. Fuck Mr. IV league he can lick my balls. I can hobble in, in person to one of these other docs on the route back one day if need be.

So two weeks later with race forms submitted and the diet and training program started in earnest I’ve still not seen a doctor. “someday ignoring something will kill you” on friend warns, another bitches at me about not using my health insurance enough and that I should be grateful for it. I spare her the fact that if you factor in my kids and how often they get sick or just go to the doctor there’s no one in the health insurance industry making money on me. We’re at the pediatrician nearly weekly…mainly because the Blonde books those appointments.

Me one day not going will kill me but at least it won’t be of a heart attack from being pissed off while holding to schedule and appointment.