New Balance

Today, we're off to the podiatrist. Ma's shoes have finally come in. Once a year, her health insurance plan allows her to get a new pair of orthopedic shoes. Once a year, I have to try to explain that New Balance is the name of the shoe company and not a super power the shoes will give her.

The Weebles Don't Wear Prada

Wednesday. On the itinerary a visit to the foot doctor to order shoes and then upstairs to the eye doctor. Both appointments for Ma.

Ma was rushing to get ready and I told her we had plenty of time. The appointment wasn’t until 10:30 and then we’d go upstairs to the eye doctor.

“No, the eye doctor cancelled the appointment,” said Dad.

“When?” I had been with him two weeks ago when we went upstairs while Ma was having her feet checked to make this appointment so Ma could get her eye drop prescription refilled.

“I don’t know, but it was cancelled.”

“Did they reschedule?” He blinked at me like an owl.

I could hear Himself’s voice echoing in my head. Never trust appointments made by Weebles.

I found an old appointment card with the eye doctor’s office number.

“Yes, I want to check on an appointment for Ma. Is she scheduled for today? She is? At 11:30am. Thank you.”

Dad just shrugged.

The medical center parking lot was filled to capacity. They must have been running a sale. I offloaded the Weebles at the front door and cruised four circuits of the lot. As I’m in the holding pattern, I was thinking eyes and feet, eyes and feet. That lead me to a joke The Brother told me. What’s occularassimatosis? Dunno. It’s when the nerves of the eyes are crossed with the nerves of the a…butt which results in a crappy outlook on life.

At the top of the fourth circuit, I spotted a handicap spot. Great! Just as I was making the final approach, a weeble zipped into the spot. They can barely walk, but they sure drive like bats out of hell. I called the poor woman all sorts of names in as many languages as I could think. That was my space, damnit! Occularassimatosis, indeed.

A circuit of the main lot, and the far employee lot yielded bupkiss. Back to the medical building lot. At the top of the circuit, I saw another handicap spot opening up. I sat at the top of the loop, gunned the engine and pulled in on two wheels just as the driver cleared the space.

I poked my head into the foot doctor’s office. Standing room only so I told Dad, I’d wait in the lobby waiting area and settled in with a book. The door opened and closed and weebles filed out. A few minutes later, more weebles came out. I went in.

Ma had just finished. She was standing at the receptionist desk frowning at three pair of athletic shoes.

“But I wanted dress shoes!”

“I want dress shoes too,” piped up another weeble lady in the waiting room.

Ma wanted to see other shoes. The doctor gave me a help me look. I shrugged, but tried for the Gipper.

“These are your choices.” No strappy shoes for you!

She looked at the doctor as he took the next patient’s chart.

“What about the New Balance shoes. I want those.” She pointed to the case where he had samples.

“They don’t make them any more!” he snapped. He grabbed the shoe from the display and tossed it in a box.

“But I want those. They really help me.”

“Ma, New Balance is the name of the shoe company. They don’t actually help improve your balance.”

She scowled at her three choices. “I want white.”

There were two white shoe choices. White with putty trim, and white with lavender trim. The remaining shoe was black on black. All had deeply grooved soles more like tires than soles.

“I’ll get the black. I want a Velcro strap.”

The doctor was heading back into his office. “No! The Velcro strap wouldn’t be good for her! She needs her shoes to be tied securely.

I didn’t tell the doctor that Ma doesn’t tie her shoes. Once the shoes are tied, she just kicks them off and steps in. After awhile, the shoes aren’t any more secure than they would be if they were held by Velcro loops.

Resigned to have no strappy shoes, Ma turned towards the door. The other weeble lady frowned in sympathy. No cute shoes for you either.

Shoes of the Weebles

Shoe day finally arrived, and I convinced Himself that misery loves company. Good egg that he is, he came with me for an outing with the Weebles.

When we arrived, Ma was bustling about the livingroom doing the where's the checkbook dance. Dad was speaking in tongues and going back and forth between rooms. I found the checkbook under a pile of mail. Ma grabbed her coat, and we were off.

Himself was driving and neither of the Weebles gave him driving directions. I'm envious of his power. He found a handicap spot, and settled in to wait. Dad decided to sit in the car with Himself so I helped Ma out of the car, and we skipped to the doctor's office where we waited, and waited, and waited.

She was very excited about finally getting new shoes. She had me retrieve samples for the display. What do you think of this one? What do you think of that one? I like the mary janes. They all look so clumsy.

In that she was correct, the shoes all look exactly the same except for color or whether they buckle with a velcro strap or tie. The shoes look like clogs except they don't have wooden soles. They have leather or neoprene uppers, very round, very wide toe boxes. They really look like shoes kindergarteners draw.

Finally Ma's turn came and she shuffled into the examination room where we waited and waited and waited some more. She debated between a pair of tie shoes and a pair of mary janes.

Finally the doctor came in and measured her feet. She told him the shoe she was thinking about. He told her he had ordered her the shoe last year. She reminded him that last year he ordered shoes in the wrong width, and the shoes had to be sent back twice.

He looked at me and expected me to help him out. I just shrugged and smiled politely. Afterall, he was getting paid for the aggravation, not me.

He brought in a shoe sample to try on. She was not happy about the style. She treated him like a shoe salesman. I want to see the beige one. How about the black one? I really like those mary janes. By the fifth time he called her "dear", I knew his patience was wearing thin as he tried to tell her he was more concerned with comfort than style.

She wanted the mary janes, but he didn't think they would be good for her as they have a smooth sole and as unsteady as she is, she needs something with traction. She resigned herself to having a pair of clumsy shoes. He ordered her the pair of tie shoes similar to the ones he had ordered last year. Again, she reminded him he ordered the wrong width.

I'm pretty sure I saw him heave a sigh of relief as we left the office.

Commentary: While the events are amusing the situation is not. These shoes are horribly expensive running between $300 and $400. The insurance company will only allow a patient one pair of shoes per year. I doubt the shoes that are made out of neoprene will last more than six months. I did an Internet search for diabetic shoes and found them online for a third the cost of what the doctor is selling them for. It's really outrageous. Hopefully, he will order shoes free of charge for someone who has no insurance or the money for the co-pay. Afterall, with the high markup, other people have already paid for the shoes.