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| - I've been meaning to write this review for a while... long overdue. Hopefully, Karma will not be too unkind for this oversight.
I wrote a review about my orthodontist that was presented at a national meeting of technology and orthodontia as the type of review you hope and dream about as an orthodontist... (True! - and you can go read it - Steig and Wachtell) because I basically said they were first class, top notch, and pathologically outstanding in every way. I also wrote that my hair stylist, AJ at the Roose - WHAT WHAT! was like the Edward Scissorhands of awesome sauce hair design. Got her some business. I hope this review conveys the same outsized, respectful admiration for Dr. Morris because I think just as highly of her.
While playing hockey, I took a slap shot to the foot, which I was sure broke the damned thing. I couldn't walk nor put even a hint of weight on it and was hobbling around in the most pathetic, ridiculous manner. In a style so utterly unmanly and full of emotional weakness I'm not even going to bother throwing in another sentence of descriptors to paint the picture. Top 5 least proud moments of my life.
I swallowed my pride and grandma's cough syrup and called their office based on Kevin H's recommendation above because he's someone I trust and they booked me for the next available appointment.
Just so happens, Dr. Morris is their foot and ankle specialist and she is legit. Let me, for a moment, digress. My dad, when I was young, taunted me with his skill with wood. So like, he made me stilts and weapons and hockey sticks, etc. Now, this was great, because he made me those things... but he was a total perfectionist, and it drove me up the mother-bleeping wall. I couldn't understand why anything had to be perfect, let alone everything. Wood, screws glue. Come on! So annoying when you're ten and have no patience. It wasn't until I read Steve Jobs for the second time and owned every Apple product on earth that I even began to understand what perfectionism is... It's the maker's love of the user. It has nothing to do with the product. It's the maker's expression of love for the end user. So, turns out, now, at 35 that my dad indeed loved me. Even when I was bratty and annoying. A remarkable discovery, to say the least.
Digression over. Back to Morris, MD. So, here's my thing about my experience there. She was thorough and, dare I say it, perfectionistic about my foot. I knew this because she thought about MY foot in a way even I hadn't comprehended in the previous 14 hours of excruciating pain. She's the embodiment of 10,000 hours of other people's feet, which in this case alone is a compliment. My foot/your foot is an extension of her. It occurred to me that she was like the Apple Inc. of my proverbial orthopedic eye, even though that analogy makes very little sense to anyone but me and may not even be an analogy at all.
Office staff was so nice. Jovanni, who helped me get around to get x-rays was super friendly. Cannot recommend Dr. Morris and staff enough. That said, I'm not recommending you get hurt. Just that if you do, go here.
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