Can Someone Call A Toe Truck?

Offerring to call a “toe truck” whenever someone stubs their toe is a family joke started by my father-in-law, carried on by my husband, and, I admit, one I pull out whenever appropriate. Well, I need a toe truck and I need one badly!

Yesterday I had happy toes. I got a lovely pedicure that included a scrub, parrafin wrap, massage and application of bright pinkish-red polish. I had just shown them off to by husband when I stubbed my right big toe on our coffee table. Owie!

At first, I didn’t realize how bad it was. When the pain didn’t go away I took a closer look and saw that the toenail had lifted from the bottom left corner. Owie, owie! My husband suggested that I tape it down with a Band-Aid and some first aid tape, which I did, but that seemed to provoke intermittent sharp, shooting pains.

I went to bed with it taped up, but I don’t think I slept. Around 2:00 am I decided that if I untaped it the shooting pains might stop, so I tried to gently pull off the tape.  When that didn’t work, I got up and used my husband’s long, thin hair scissors to cut the bandaging off.  While it still hurt, I think it helped because I do think I was asleep when my alarm went off at 5:00.

This morning it is still quite painful and closed-toe shoes are out of the question. Even my husband–who firmly beleives that medical attention should be a last resort–agrees that I should see a podiatrist. The thought of having someone “finish the job” makes me nauseous, but if it speeds the recovery I guess it will be worth it.