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I began reading the list of pills as the attendant wheeled me upstairs to another doctor. There seemed to be an endless list of different pills, all with names I couldn’t pronounce. On the next floor, I was wheeled into the office of yet another doctor. This doctor was a lot more cheerful. He looked at the leg, poked and prodded for a moment or so before he said, “Well, it looks as if I’ll be able to save your leg with extensive therapy and herbal medicine. However, in cases like yours I think I’ll call for another opinion. Once again in my wheel chair, I was rushed to another doctor a few more floors up in the hospital. This doctor again examined my foot and leg. “Hmmm!” he said, “Looks bad but I think I can save your leg with a new process by which we slowly introduce in to your blood stream, a chemical which will open your clogged veins and restore good circulation to your feet. However, in cases like yours I need another opinion.” Immediately, I was put back into my wheel chair and rushed to a small office on the very top floor of the hospital. The doctor looked surprised to see me. “Hmmm.” he said, “Your left foot and leg hurts and you’ve been diabetic since 1986. Interesting. Stand up.” He looked me over from head to toe. Slowly he reached out and stuck his finger under my belt. Then he asked, “Do you always wear your belt this tight?” I answered, “Yes. I’ve always worn my belt tight. It helps keep my pants on” The doctor spoke up, “That’s your problem, loosen your belt and the blood will be able to flow from your top half to the bottom half of your body.” Hesitating only a moment or two, I unbuckled my belt and let it slip one notch. “MORE!” shouted the doctor, “That’s not nearly enough.” Not daring to believe what I was hearing I let the belt slip another notch. “MORE!” shouted the doctor impatiently. “You need to let the blood flow from your heart to your feet.” Oddly enough, I began to feel a bit light headed and the pain in my left leg began to abate. “MORE!” shouted the doctor, “You’re almost there, don’t you feel better already?” I had to admit, I was indeed beginning to feel better, the pain in my left leg was almost all gone. “One more notch,” said the doctor, “and you’ll be ready to go home.” I looked at the doctor in disbelief as I asked, “You mean to tell me all I had to do, all these years, was to loosen my belt and I wouldn’t have diabetes any more?” “Well,” said the doctor, “I wouldn’t go that far, but you sure seemed to have improved the circulation from the top half to the bottom half of your body, haven’t you?” I was ecstatic with overwhelming joy. Leaving my wheelchair behind in the doctor's office I danced trippingly out of the door into the hallway with my arms extended, pirouetting as I went. I felt so good I danced past the elevator to the seven flights of stairs from the doctor's office to the ground floor. I burst through the doorway to the stairway in a grand pirouette, fluttering my arms like a bird as I went. I suppose it was all this prancing about that caused me to miss seeing the mop handle on the floor at the top of the stairs. It was a mercifully short but extremely painful trip from the seventh floor to ground level, and I don’t think I missed a single step along the way. Now, here I lay in a cast from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, and in traction to boot. My doctor comes by every day and reminds me how lucky I was to have loosened my belt when I did or I would have also had diabetic symptoms. AUTHOR: Robert P. Herbst  TAGS: Literary Work health diabetes fitness BOOKMARK: Digg it | Add to Del.ICIO | Add to FARK ACTIONS: Comment Save Print Register free acount  |
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