A Wicked Case of Elphaba Toe
I have received an outpouring of emails asking for an update on the condition of my big toe
or I just made that up because it is day twenty-six of NaBloPoMo and I ran out of things to write about on day four. I share this information with everyone only because in so doing, I might be reaching out to another human being with a big toe condition and save a life by encouraging someone else to seek medical assistance or I am happy to talk on and on about myself and another one of the medical mysteries that prey upon my otherwise healthy and cheerful existence on this planet.
After a two-week stint on a broad-spectrum antibiotic for cellulitis of the big toe, yes, it was cellulitis, a true affliction, I had to go back to the doctor because my big toe got worse. It started turning green, and I’m not even joking. The doctor named a type of bacteria that was known for turning flesh green, something like elphabaphylococcusareus (they last four syllables are pronounced “you sorry ass”). So the doctor put me on a thirty-day round of antibiotics and recommended vinegar soaks. Vinegar soaks? Apparently the vinegar can penetrate skin and weaken bacteria. While I will embrace western medicine with both arms when it’s a decision between life or life without a big toe and death, I’m all about the homeopathic remedy. So I was totally down with giving vinegar soaks a try.
My vinegar-smelling big green toe totally made me think of Easter eggs. Totally. So, while my toe was soaking, I pondered whether I should pack my bottle of vinegar for our Thanksgiving trip to the Bay Area to see Kristen and Adam, or should I stand in line with last-minute Thanksgiving shoppers to buy vinegar there. Then I remembered this post on Adam’s blog, about how he and Kristen have six different kinds of vinegar in their pantry. Foodies. So now my big dilemma is whether I want to stick with big green Easter egg toe or go for big green salad toe.
When Tom and I were in bed on Monday night, I told him all about my visit to the doctor earlier that day. Tom listened attentively. I made a compelling case about the seriousness of my condition, emphasizing multiple doctor visits and antibiotics and green flesh and, you know, that it is an actual condition. Tom listened attentively. I told Tom that I had already thought over the possibility that the doctor might recommend amputation, like they might have to remove my big toe to save my life. Tom listened attentively. I told Tom that I thought that getting a second opinion on a recommended big toe amputation would be worthwhile. Tom listened attentively. I told him that I’ve heard that you can’t walk properly without a big toe, something to do with balance. Tom listened attentively. I told him if they amputated my toe to save my life, I might have to buy a strap-on toe in order to walk properly. Tom listened attentively. Moreover, I told Tom, I’d need a strap-on toe so that I could run from the car into Target when it rains so my hair doesn’t frizz. Tom listened attentively. I asked Tom if it were his big toe would he get a second opinion because the doctor called in one of his partners to look at my big toe because even the doctor wanted a second opinion about my big toe. Tom listened attentively. I told Tom that neither one of the doctors mentioned amputation yet. Tom listened attentively.
And then Tom wanted sex.
So . . . by way of a warning to my mother-in-law and children, tomorrow I will be posting about sex as part of Tranny Head’s Great Thanksgiving Green Bean Giveaway (“green beans” being Tranny Head’s euphemism for sex). Tranny Head is giving away a number of items as part of a “Holiday Survival Kit” including Starbucks and Target certificates (since I will be able to run into Target with my strap-on toe, I hope to win this), so enter the giveaway tomorrow. What do you have to lose by posting about sex? Heh.
So, Mom, Kids, maybe just stick with actual green bean casseroles on Thanksgiving and stay away from my blog tomorrow. Everyone else? Stop by to find out what I have to say about sex in a long-term marriage.
Readers, who thinks my big green toe and I should start practicing “For Good” right now?