FEET AND A THROBBING VEIN IN MY HEAD

Feet are important.  I think we all take our feet for granted, which is really sad, considering what they do for us and what happens when things go wrong.  Recently I have realized how unappreciative I have been of my feet my whole life and now they are out to get me.
In about July I started to notice a dull ache in my heel...mostly in the morning, but it seemed to be getting a little worse as time went on.  I thought maybe I had injured myself with all the walking we did at Disneyland (hey...it's no small "feat" hauling this bod around for five straight days of standing and walking...I'm surprised they didn't fall right off)  Unfortunately, the dull ache has turned into a sharp pain that starts right out of bed in the morning and gradually increases into a stab with a barbed spear by the time I go to bed at night....yeah, right in the bottom of my heel.  Imagine a really sharp and jagged piece of broken cement in your shoe...and you get to walk on it...over and over and over again.  Sucks.
After much discussion with my dad and a lot of reading on the internet I am fairly certain I have plantar fasciitis. My dad had it several years ago, and went to an orthopedic surgeon, who gave him steroid shots in his heel and the pain immediately stopped and hasn't been back.  Sounds simple, right?  So how come I am the biggest wuss to ever walk the earth?  The idea of someone sticking a NEEDLE into my heel makes me cringe (yeah...never mind the fact that walking on it FEELS like a thousand needles with every step... I didn't say my argument was reasonable)  I have had four C-sections...I had eight impacted wisdom teeth... I am no stranger to painful medical procedures. I actually even have a fairly high tolerance for pain.  I'm not sure why this particular one has me so stinking scared,  and I know my fear is irrational... but I can't help it.  It's been six months, and I haven't done anything about it except complain and limp. It is interfering with EVERYTHING... I can't exercise, go shopping, or even stand in the kitchen and cook or wrap presents. The pain makes me sweat, pant and swear...and my blood pressure is surely high because of the stress it's causing me....I can tell because of the amazingly terrible throbbing vein in my head.
So today, after completely bawling through my workout and limping around town looking for tablecloths for the ward party I finally realized it's time to face the music.  I told my sister how horrible it was today, who passed the info to my mom...and I received some pep talk phone calls from my dad and my aunt.  It sounded a little like "quit being such a big fat baby and go to the !#@!% doctor!" (they didn't say that, but they should have, because I really AM being a big baby...) So tomorrow I am going to make an appointment... hopefully I will live through it so I can burden everyone I know telling them how horrible it was.  Getting old sucks.