stoic or stupid, we live in Maine

On my way home from getting my toe hacked, I saw the guy down the street manuevering an armoir either into or out of a pickup truck. He's a big guy, but was all by himself and it was a big armoir. I wheeled into my spot, got out of the van, and limped back up the driveway far enough to yell up to him. "You need a hand?" "No, I got it." Sure enough, a few more steps to the side showed the armoir resting on its back in the bed. He thanked me for offering and I said, "Your welcome." I hobbled back into the house.

The podiatrist was surprised and disappointed to see me. He had done the same procedure a little more than a year ago and it didn't stick. It was nice to see his chagrin, because I felt the same way. If it doesn't work this time I'll be scheduled for an outpatient surgery at the hospital. There's been more than once when I've been tempted to take an axe to the whole lot of them. (The toes that is, not the doctors.)