Phutatorius

Foot Update — Day 19:

Last week was marked by the eruption of over a half-dozen canker sores in my mouth. What the hell, you might ask, does that have to do with your foot, Phutatorius?

Wait for the payoff.

Now my lips and tongue are as vulnerable to the occasional canker as anybody's. And when I'm attacking a beefsteak with enthusiasm I may gnaw inadvertently on the inside of my cheek, and after a day or so that chewed area might morph into a sore there as well. But never in my life have I suffered canker sores in such quantity. My tongue was beginning to resemble, topographically, the pock-marked surface of that Saturnine moon in the news.

Again, Phutatorius, what do Saturnine moons have to do with . . . ?

Sir, if you would just sit down and let me finish? Thank you. From here we rewind the tape two weeks, to when I first visited my doctor about my wrecked ankle and the surge of deep purple under my skin that was advancing, at breakneck pace, toward my toes. At this point I could scarcely find a shoe to contain my edematous right foot, and I had half a mind to call home and ask my mother to pull my old pair of moon boots out of storage.

The doctor prescribed Naproxen, which he claimed would help reduce the swelling. The riddling of my mouth with sores two weeks later — and very little of the promised foot shrinkage — prompted me to read up on the drug. Some questions: Does it work at all? Could my cankers be "collateral damage" caused by the Naproxen? In the course of my research I Googled "Naproxen side effects". And what do you suppose I learned?

Wait for it . . .

Wait for it . . .

Putting aside the rest of the Parade of Horribles I read about (which included "bloody vomit," "blurred vision," and "black, tarry stools"), one side effect of Naproxen is "swelling of feet." Read it yourself here, and verify it here.

There is only one obvious take-home from this: my doctor is compromised. It is clear that the Latrine Man has got to him, and together they are determined to give an indefinite duration to my hobbling. It is also clear that these two are not working alone. Does the conspiracy go all the way up to the Instapundit? You better believe it.

In my case folder right now, then: on one side, a whack-job blogger who knows Phutatorius is just the man to provide the good kicking he deserves. On the other, two obviously related gestures of violence toward my right foot. All I need is hard evidence to make the connection.

And when I do, Instapundit, your reign of terror over the blogging community will end.