Once upon a time, there was a woman.
Her parents had named her “Pegasus.” Her friends called her “Peggy.” Her enemies simply called her by her given name. I’ll just call her “Peg.”
Peg had an issue with her foot. She wasn’t quite sure what was wrong. Maybe something got stuck in it. Sometimes that happens, you know.
The problem was that Peggy didn’t see anything in her foot. But each time she took a step, she felt a pinch.
She googled around, and everything she read seemed to confirm that there was indeed something wrong. It could be a corn, in which case the remedy would consist of pouring a store-bought toxic substance over it. Such a solution would slowly but surely burn the top layer of flesh off. Peg didn’t want that.
As she kept googling, she discovered the pain could also be a sign of “asymptomatic gangrene,” in which case amputation was the only answer. It could also be heart disease, since sometimes when your heart begins to fail you get pinching sensations in your feet.
She got scared and decided to call her doctor. She spoke with one of her doctor’s twelve receptionists. The receptionist told her to come in four weeks.
Peg waited four weeks.
She went to her doctor’s office.
Her doctor said, “Does this hurt?” Peg said, “Yes.”
Her doctor smiled and said, “There is something wrong with your foot. I’m going to refer you to a specialist.”
She set up an appointment with the recommended specialist, a podiatrist named Dr. Spinach. She waited four weeks to see Dr. Spinach. When the appointed day arrived, she found herself in his fluorescent office that smelled like a Clorox wipe. He couldn’t make a head or a tail of the situation, but he prescribed her a fast-acting medication developed by the U. S. government that could potentially induce first-rate hallucinations.
Dr. Spinach wasn’t sure whether the medication would help. Actually, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t help. Peg decided not to take it.
Dr. Spinach said it was probably a good idea that she didn’t. He referred her to a skin doctor.
Peg went to the skin doctor. The skin doctor sent her to a gastroenterologist. The gastroenterologist recommended her to a cardiologist who again referred her back to Dr. Spinach. She didn’t want to see Dr. Spinach again.
She decided to do some research of her own. She ordered her own blood tests online, talked to a chiropractor, saw a nutritionist, and started drinking herbal tea.
Nothing seemed to help. After two years had elapsed, she went back to Dr. Spinach.
“The pain hasn’t really increased in intensity,” she said, “but some strange things have been happening.”
“Go on,” he said.
She told him that, on occasion and for seemingly no apparent reason, she could levitate. She wondered aloud what her newfound ability to float through the air had to do with the pain in her foot.
Dr. Spinach made a joke: “Nobody really talks about how levitating makes it easier to sneak up on people for a good old jump scare.”
After Peg didn’t laugh, he tried again: “Honestly, tell me, how much more convenient is it for you to carry your coffee when you’re in a hurry?”
After Peg left Dr. Spinach’s office, she decided to go into medicine. It took her 12 years to become a doctor because she had to go back to university to get the required bachelor’s degree.
One day, a woman telephoned Dr. Peg’s office. This woman’s parents had named her “Gelda.” Her friends called her “Gigi.” Her enemies called her by her given name. I can sympathize with Gelda, so I will call her “Gigi.”
Gigi had a pain in her foot.
“Hi, I need to make an appointment,” Gigi said politely to Dr. Peg’s receptionist.
“Please hold.”
Bette Midler’s “From a Distance” began to play over the line. As Gigi waited, she lifted her foot up to her face. She didn’t notice anything in particular.
Fifteen minutes later, she was still holding her foot in midair and balancing on one leg when the hold music cut out.
A special thanks to my dear sweet wife Anna for reading this story and for providing edits/suggestions.
Very Gogolian of you.
The irony of medicine.