I have told myself that if my knee bothers me so much over the weekend that I have difficulty walking I will have to go to the emergency room and get a brace. I don’t think it will even come close to that, but here’s what I’m speculating:
Skinny girl shows up at ER on crutches. The triage nurse takes her vitals and asks what the problem is. Girl says she can’t walk because her knee gives out on her. Can’t put any weight on it at all? I can still put weight on it, she says, but it is only getting worse when I do.
After waiting three hours, girl is brought into a cubicle and asked to undress. I see–you are on psych meds…hmm…okay, what’s wrong with your knee?
I have been asked to gain weight. My doctor told me to. I gained weight. A pound and a half a week. My knee couldn’t take the weight gain. It gave out. I need a brace.
What makes you think there’s something wrong with your knee?
I can’t walk on it.
Okay, why don’t you walk over here. Let’s see you walk.
I am in pain.
Can I weigh you?
I have gained a pound and a half a week. My doctor weighs me.
You don’t look like you weigh very much. Have you lost weight recently?
I have gained four and a half pounds according to the doctor’s scale, over a period of three weeks.
Would you like some food? We have meals here. You’re on psych meds. Why aren’t you in a day program, anyway?
I no longer have symptoms of mental illness. I am not here in this emergency room to be treated for mental illness or anorexia. I am here to be treated for my knee injury. I am interested in possibly getting a brace for my knee. Is this possible?
Can I weigh you?
Are you going to treat my knee?
Do you have Ibuprofen at home? Take that. And don’t lose any more weight. You might as well be invisible.
Girl leaves ER with prescription for super-strength Ibuprofen, which I think is the same thing as three tablets of over-the-counter Ibuprofen. Invisible. Yeah, sure.