Sixteen Solid Pounds

The storms caused a bit of flood in our basement. I was cleaning. Seems like all I ever do these days. Tons of papers had to be tossed away. I unboxed and reboxed many old artifacts. I wrapped memories in tissue paper and tucked them neatly into containers of packing peanuts. The pile for donation to charity was almost as large as the pile to send to the storage locker. Finally my life was coming together. I felt lighter and a bit more free.

I picked up a box to get to the child's rocking chair beneath it. Suddenly the bottom fell through and there was a thud. I stood there stunned for a moment. Then there was the pain. Like a flash. My father yelled down to me, "Are you okay?" I quickly sat down in the chair a few steps away. "I don't know," I replied with genuine uncertainty. The pain had subsided but I felt strange. I slid my shoe off and began pulling my sock off. Red trickled down my foot. "No, I'm not. Please bring ice now!" My brother stepped to my side and my father looked down. Instinctively I held my hand over my toe, guarding it from them. I couldn't feel the pain at the moment but I was sure it would come any minute. The great toe on my right foot took the brunt of the force from the sixteen pound bowling ball that had been in the water-logged box.

My brother helped me up two flights of stairs. I felt weak and a bit light headed. I made it to my bed and my father and mother quickly went to work on my foot. My brother held my hand and cracked jokes, that were actually quite funny, to keep me distracted. There was no way to tell if my toe was broken at the moment. There was too much blood. My pretty pedicure was ruined for sure. The least of my worries. The matrix of the nail, the very base under the cuticle was now exposed. The nail was still attached at the sides and a bit in the middle. My parents cleaned the wound and medicated me. I tried to stay calm and help. My body wouldn't stop shaking. Shock. I could tell you the pathophysiology of what was happening to me. In all the pain and commotion I managed to get my brother to take pictures. I know, I'm odd. It's okay.

That was Monday evening. I've been home since then with my foot elevated. I clean the wound twice a day. I still can't tolerate any weight on the foot. Tomorrow is a trip to urgent care. My boyfriend seems to think I should have gone the first night. I thought I'd be fine. The problem is, it's still bleeding. It's still swollen and we need to be sure it's not broken. I don't have health insurance. This isn't going to be cheap. There's sure to be X-rays and pain medication and all that. And they'll probably want to remove the nail. Did I mention it may not grow back considering the amount of damage done to the root? Do you think a press-on nail will look too ridiculous? Just when I was starting to get into the whole girly thing of wearing open toed shoes and pedicures and what-not!

Darvocet and crutches are my friends the past few days. In fact, I've just had some pain medication now. My head is starting to feel fuzzy and my toe is throbbing a little less. I'd share the photos but they're far too icky. I'm sure it would look worse if the nail hadn't been painted.

Seriously, I'm a walking - or hobbling- accident waiting to happen.