The Appointment, the Doom Scroll, and One Good Foot

I went to the podiatrist today. My foot is fine, and somehow I didn't have a copay. So I have to ask: why does seeing a doctor for one foot cost a full copay, but apparently seeing a doctor for both feet costs nothing? The healthcare system remains a mystery—at least my toes are doing well.

My father had asked me several times to make an appointment for him while I was booking mine. So I did. After the recent malay with my mom, and after he used my “deficiency” against me, I still helped. I told him the appointment time, and the doctor texted him a reminder.

When it was time to leave, he was still in his chair, doomscrolling amid the boxes, papers, and other stuff that had gathered around the place he hardly gets up from.

As I was heading out, he asked, “Did you get my message?”

“No,” I said.

“I canceled the appointment.”

“As long as you called them.”

I’m not playing messenger.

This has become a pattern. He asks for help setting up an appointment or task, then cancels when the time comes because he’s “not feeling well.” Maybe there’s more going on—perhaps even agoraphobia. But whatever the reason, the result is the same: plans get made, plans get dropped, and I’m left rearranging my day around them.

It happened with a necessary trip to Verizon to fix his cellphone. We finally went about six months after he first asked. It happened with an in-person bank deposit, at least two months after he asked me to help. There have been other examples.

I don’t mind driving him. He isn’t in shape to drive himself, and I like being behind the wheel. Honestly, the world is probably safer with him off the road.

What I do mind is changing my own plans to help—like moving a pain appointment I’d arranged for that morning in Downtown Charleston—only for him to cancel at the last minute without telling me directly.

That’s not cool.

So, lesson learned: I’m happy to drive when there’s a real plan, and he’s ready to go. But I’m not rearranging my day around appointments he may cancel from his chair.

At least one of us made it to the podiatrist. And one of us left with a good foot and no copay.