For more than a year, I have been putting up with pain in the arch of the foot. This is a throbbing ache that is centred right in the curve of the arch. For most of last year I ignored it. I had other health issues – the uterine issues etc. But over the last few months, it got steadily worse. I put up with it during the Japan trip and during the Malaysian trip. But over December and January, it got so bad that I was limping some days, and even when I was sitting and not putting any weight on the foot, I still got a burning throbbing localised pain. The spot was about the size of a 10-cent coin but gosh, it burned!

Google told me that very likely this was a case of plantar fasciitis. I guess this means orthotics – feet support via insoles etc. And ugly granny shoes for life. Though to be honest, I had not been wearing pretty heels for the longest time already since my feet are a cross between elephant legs and pig trotters. Pig trotters do not go well with kitten heels and stilettos. So I have been content to live in my Crocs for many years until recently when I ditched them for sensible but a tad more fashionable Hush Puppies sandals and shoes.

My parents were concerned about the huge ginormous stumps I have for calves. And to be honest, I was growing pretty obsessed (and depressed!) with comparing my legs with the legs of other women. It seemed that even the most obese people I see on the streets have thinner calves than mine! Everyone who has a look at my legs usually has a reaction of horror, sympathy and fascination. Most ask if they can poke it. So it must be bad. But no, its not water retention either. They are just incredibly bulky and heavy.

It could be due to:

a) hypothyroidism (which fits my symptoms)
b) medication (one of the known side-effects of my hypertension meds is to have swollen legs) or
c) I’m just fat.

The internist that I see in the hospital just raised his brows, measured my calves (these are body stats I would be better off not knowing) and wrote it in my notes. A colleague said: maybe the chi is not moving through your legs. Acupuncture might help.

While that kinda makes sense, I still do not have enough confidence in TCM, so no acupuncture (hate needles) and I opted to put my faith in mainstream meds and see an orthopaedic surgeon instead, figuring that maybe the guy can tell me what’s wrong with the cankles and fix the pain in the arch as well.

So last week, I went off to the consultant. And what a nightmare that was!

Before I could tell him more, he had flexed my foot, knuckled the arch which made me wince and yelp, and then swivelled his chair, plucked a model of skeleton foot and told me what’s wrong with my foot. Plantar fasciitis, he said breezily and added the words that ran my blood cold: “I need to give you and injection.” Note how he phrased it: “I. Need.” Nothing in there about me, the patient but everything about him the doctor.

“What? Now?” Panic set in.

“Yes. Now.” I could have sworn he had an evil glint in his eye.

I was caught off guard. I had heard about such injections but thought they were meant as a last resort. Clearly not for this guy. He was literally hurrying me to lie down so he can stick the needle in.

Did I have second thoughts? You bet! Third and fourth even. Everything in me screamed no. But like a rabbit caught in the cross-hairs of a gun, I just stayed helpless. Every question I feebly asked was heartily tossed aside in the ‘pshaw-I-know-best-cos-I’m-the-doctor’ tone I hate so much.

“Er, would this be painful?” Pathetic, stupid question, I know.

“No, of course not,” went he. “You went though childbirth, this is nothing.” Liar.

“Shouldn’t I see a podiatrist? Get an insole done first?” I blabbered in desperation.

“No need. This one, plus physio, will cure it. 95% are cured in three months!” Is it me or does he sound like a used-car salesman trying to push a lemon sale? And what happens to the other 5%? I never found out.

At no time did he tell me what exactly he would be injecting into me, explain the pros and cons etc. My thoughts were flying all over the place and I felt railroaded into the examination table. Mostly, I think I was just paralysed by fear.

“Wait. Have a look at my legs. Why are the ankles so swollen?” I blurted.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell you why. Could be due to your medication,” brushed off the doc. Huh? My numero uno reason in seeing this guy was just answered, just like that. What a waste of time. He barely looked at my pig-elephant legs.

I lay down reluctantly, terrified. I wanted to sit up to watch but he said no. “Otherwise I might have to stick you twice, haha!” Evil laughter.

Let me tell you now, for the record, having gone through childbirth five times, the last two of which were drug-free, that childbirth is officially NOT the worst sort of pain in the world. Having a needle stuck in your foot and cortisone (he finally told me at the end, after it was all over) slowly injected in – is really right up there in the torture stakes.

That sort of stupid myth is perpetuated by doctors like him (who has never gone through childbirth by the way, so what does he know?) who tell cowering patients like me, that sort of lie. As he stuck the needle in and slowly pressed the plunger, I lay wide-eyed, in shock and in so much pain that I uttered strangled cries through gritted teeth, breathing fast and shallowly. It seemed to go on forever. At one point the nurse who stood beside me and gripped my hands (bless her) asked in concern: You’re not allergic to anything right?

Allergic to what? I didn’t even know what was going in! Maybe I looked like I was going into anaphylactic shock? Towards the end, I remember telling the doctor a bit hysterically: You’ve got to be kidding me! Oh you’re joking. This is bad. This is so bad. This is worse than childbirth!

Tears were in my eyes and after he had finished, I just lay there, in semi-shock. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to sit up and function. I think I was in a daze, can’t remember what I blabbered about. I went on auto-pilot mode after that, feeling a bit blank and wondering what the heck did I just put myself through?

For the first five minutes, I could gingerly walk. But after half an hour, the sole and the arch area had swelled up and was so tender I could not put any weight on it. I was supposed to take the train to pick Cait up from school. But I didn’t think I could make it and had to ask my mom to do this instead while I took a cab home.

For the rest of the night, and the next day, I hobbled. I could not walk upstairs but literally crawled up. The kids thought it was a hoot to see mummy on all-fours. Today, it’s much better. The swelling has gone down. The old pain is mostly gone but it does come back in twinges and this morning, the burning sensation was back too.

Looks like I went though all that for nothing after all.

Well, there’s always… acupuncture. After that horror story I lived through, how much worse can it get? Right?