A few months ago, 7 to be exact, it was a chilly October night. Caderyn was asleep, my house was semi-clean and I was in cooking mode. A friend from work had just had an adorable baby boy and I was making them dinner- Mexican Meatloaf. I hate meatloaf, and I assure you I wouldn't eat this dish if it was actually made with meatloaf. This is a spicy dish that involves lots of yummy Mexican ingredients. The end result is an amazing casserole that looks and tastes nothing like meatloaf, so, I don't know why its called meatloaf.
But I'm getting off topic.
So there I was, making dinner for my friend and her family. I was at the stage where I transferred everything from where it was cooking on the stove to a casserole dish. I scooted over to the overhead counter where I keep my fabulous Corningware dishes and opened up, keep this in mind, the overhead counter. As I did so, out fell one of the heaviest round dishes of the set and landed, very accurately, on my bare right toe (We're talking about a 6' drop here)!
The pain was blinding. It took my breath away. Tears of pain welled up in my eyes and spilled over. I lost all sense of moral and began hollering curse words of pain and jibberish. I couldn't walk the pain was so great- even more so than childbirth (I think). I had to crawl on my hands and knees crying into our bedroom on the other side of the house where my phone was charging. I dialed Jeff at work.
When he answered I don't think he could understand a word I said I was crying and struggling to breathe through the pain. When he finally understood the reason I called, and listened to my pleas for him to come and take me to the hospital, he merely scoffed and informed me he wasn't going to take me in for a hurt toe. Yes, I was mad.
After I got off the phone with Jeff I took a few deep breaths and examined the damage. There was lots of pressure already on my toe, it felt swollen all the way up to my knee. There was lots of blood under the nail and part of my toe was turning blue. I was dented in awkwardly too. I managed to awkwardly stand and hobble back into the kitchen where I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer. It didn't even register with me for one second at that time that the ice pack I'd grabbed was actually a boob pack that the Doctor gave me to help ease the pain when I was breastfeeding. All I know is it felt soooo good. I wrapped it in a towel and in turn wrapped that towel with the ice pack around my foot. Then I made up a bed for myself on the couch and propped my poor foot up on about six pillows.
And that is how Jeff found me when he came home from work. He examined my toe, thought it was gross but cool and told me I would be fine. We went to bed.
The next morning I was still in agony. I couldn't wear any shoes except for the faux Uggs I bought when I was pregnant when none of my other shoes would fit. I hobbled around work and ran my errands in pain.
Gradually, over a few days, the pain subsided and I began to mourn the now hideous appearance of my toe- little did I know the worst was yet to come.
Months went by and my toenail began to turn an ugly shade of black. I went to the Doctor for a routine physical and had her take a peek at it. She was grossed out- imagine that! A Doctor grossed out- and let me know I probably should have gone to the emergency room to get it looked at shortly after the incident occurred. TAKE THAT JEFF! She let me know I was going to lose my nail, she offered to help me with it but the procedure sounded horrible so I opted out. She also let me know it may take awhile for my nail to grow back and it may never look normal.
Great. Did this Doctor know she was talking to the Sandal Wearing Queen? Just great.
So I kept an eye on my toenail and began to watch as, slowly but surely, it began to seperate itself from my toe. The, while on my Boise trip with the girls I was getting ready to step in the shower and I banged my foot on the tub. To my surprise, off popped the nail. It was gross. That's all I need to say about that, but I was glad to have it off and over with.
Now, almost three months later, my toe is FRIGHTENING. Jeff and I have a funny little side joke where I pretend to attack him with my toe and he pretends to scream in pain and die.
We then decided that something this ugly had to have a name. We couldn't think of a better name to call it than the "Meth Toe." This is mainly because I decided it looks like my toe has been smoking an excessive amount of meth, as seen in these commericals.
My toe nail has slowly but surely started to grow back. And, just like my Doctor said, it wouldn't be pretty, but we're getting there. I have faith that one day, maybe sometime next year, I'll be able to walk into my favorite salon and sit down to get a pedicure without the nail tech screaming in horror. Oh, don't worry, I'm going to post a picture of my toe for all of the world to see as soon as I can get home and upload it.
WARNING WARNING WARNING. This picture is gruesome. Don't look unless you want to.
My feet USED to be professionally groomed at least once a month. This toe has prevented me from loving my feet for more than half a year.