I think he might have understated the pain/pressure portion of his prep talk. "Here's the sting...." he said and accurately so I might add, for it did sting. "And now it's gonna feel like I'm blowing up your elbow."

"What?? Wait...You said pressure before!"

"Yeah, that too."

"Holy fuck!!!"

"You feel that? Just a little bit longer. 5 seconds. Go ahead. Count to 5. One, two, three..."

"It's a whole lot easier to count from where you're sitting than where I'm sitting."

"There. All done."

"Really? Because that hurt. A Lot! Like driving a blunt nail into my elbow joint and prying it back and forth. Then tapping it with a ball peen hammer just for good measure. That's what it felt like. Pressure as a descriptor did not spring to mind. And...it seemed like more than 5 seconds. I'm just saying, you're little prep overview was a bit misleading."

"Aww, you puss!" And with that, he left the room.

I think I heard him laughing in the hallway and am fairly certain I heard some high fives. I would have followed to defend my honor but the room was spinning and I was about to hurl. I opted instead to splash cool water on my face and neck as I lay, crumpled in a fetal position in the examination chair. I cursed the winter and longed for warmer climes--like Key West. Doc was right. I am a puss.

But I guess it could always have been worse. I'm so much more glad to be seeing an orthopedist for ravages of winter on my body as opposed to a cardiologist.

Just call me Freaking Pollyanna!

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