Actually, it’s not the toe – it’s the knuckle that joins the big toe to the foot. There’s no sign of injury – no bruise, no swelling – nothing.
It feels like I got run over by a truck that I now don’t remember. When I touch it, the sensation is like a needle being pushed through my eyeball – in the foot.
I keep taking the sock off and squeezing it to see if it’s magically gone away. People in restaurants probably think I’m strange. It’s like having a loose tooth when you’re a kid and you feel all the way around it with your tongue, poking to see if the hurt has gone. Then the tooth falls out.
I hope that doesn’t happen to my toe. How could I count past nineteen?
This is supposed to be a hiking vacation. Hobbling and using the left heel for stability is all I can do. How can I hike on one foot? I’m a mess; a wreck. Self-pity is easy this week.
Sympathy would be nice. So would knowledge – what is it?
If it was broken, it would be black.
If it was dislocated, it wouldn’t move at all.
So WTF?
Do I have gout?
Is my body rejecting me?
Am I the first victim of an alien task force of nano-beings that take over civilizations by invading their extremities?
I hope it’s the last one. That or something innocuous that will cure itself after a few days of inactivity, then I wouldn’t have to face the horrors of the American medical system again.
Two years ago I had a knee issue – ironically, also in Palm Springs. The immense difficulty acquiring attention for what was a minor issue, followed by a billing and insurance fiasco lasting more than a year, left me in doubt about whether even I’d survive a serious problem.
After two x-ray sessions, an MRI and four ‘extended’ specialist visits, I cured it myself with ice and Ibuprofen. That’s what I’m self-prescribing this time.
I don’t think my toe will kill me.
But let’s wait and see….
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