I always forget how bad the traffic in San Antonio is because Eliot bikes to work — and my morning commute is usually just down the street to the pool with Asa. (Amazing that I can find things to be dissatisfied about, isn’t it?). My ten minute drive ended up taking 35 minutes and I arrived late. Hate that. However, the doctor was an hour late to my appointment in March, and I had to keep Asa entertained in the waiting room the whole time, so I figure we’ll call it even. The fellow was very nice this time, but he wanted to try oral steroids again before moving onto an injection. I did two rounds of oral steroids back in March without success. Or, I should say, the steroids worked really well when I was on them (and I had all sorts of extra energy for house cleaning) and then it was back to square one a few days afterwards. I tried to understand why the doctor wanted to try them again when they hadn’t worked the first time, but I left unsatisfied. The man answered my questions — and he was speaking good English — but I was at a loss to re-explain his reasoning to Eliot and Amanda afterwards. Have you ever had this experience? I mean, I’ve gone through a fair amount of schooling in my life. I know some medical stuff. And no one describes me as dumb right off the bat. “You know, Liza, — that dumb runner girl.” (No, I think “short” or “smiley runner girl,” would be my index term.) But, darn, if I can tell you now why I didn’t get a painful injection in my foot this morning. He did say he was reticent to do an injection because I run so much. I can’t find any research supporting this concern, but I am not a doctor and not a podiatrist. So I’ll trust his many years of schooling and expertise and I’ll go back in a week and see what happens. I’ll prep my questions better for the next visit. Better, I’ll see if Eliot will come along and play really dumb until I can understand the plan. I’ll be the nice compliant patient and he can be my dull advocate.