The saga of my big toe continues. And although it isn’t over yet . . . in the middle of the epic tale is a smokin’ hot doctor, complete with green scrubs and a darling scruffy goatee.
Here’s the toe story recap:
First, my big toe turned red.
Next, my toe became green with a “Wicked” case of Elphaba toe. At which point I should never have joked about getting a strap-on toe. I tempted fate.
Now my toe is blue.
It became clear after the long Thanksgiving weekend that despite copious doses of antibiotics and delicious food consumed in mass quantities, my toe was only getting worse. So I went to a foot specialist on Monday, a smokin’ hot doctor, complete with green scrubs and a darling scruffy goatee. And then? Totally humiliated myself. I can never go back there. Not ever. Which totally blows because my shoulder surgeon is part of that medical group, and he’s hot too. You see, although I am often afflicted with various medical conditions, I do have the good fortune of finding hot doctors to see me through the
days weeks months years lifetime of suffering I was apparently born to endure.
Dr. Smokin’ Hot Complete With Green Scrubs And A Darling Scruffy Goatee: “We are going to have to numb your toe and remove the nail.”
Me: “Wha???? Really???”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “Yes.
We must act quickly to save your life, but don’t worry, I will save you.”
Me: “Are you sure? Seriously? The whole toenail? All of it? You can’t save any of it?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “The whole nail has to come off so that I can clean out the infected area. The antibiotics aren’t going to do the job alone.”
Me: “But I need my husband here. I need someone. No offense, I’m sure you’re very nice. But I need someone I know to hold my hand. I know! Tom D. works here. Can you go get Tom D. for me?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “Do you know Tom D.?”
Me: “Not very well. But his wife and I are good friends. She referred me here. And my husband’s name is also Tom, so any old Tom will be fine. I’m in a pinch, you know.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “Do you want to schedule this for tomorrow and come back with your husband?”
Me: “No. My husband is really busy today, and he’ll probably be really busy tomorrow. He’s busy every day. I just want to get it over with.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “You’ll need get up on the examination table.”
Me: “The TABLE? I have to get up there? I have to be on the table? Are you sure? Wait! Are you really sure you have to take off the toenail? There is no other way? Well, at least you don’t have to remove the toe itself. I told my husband that I was afraid it might come to that, but mostly I was just trying to get his attention. Well, at least it’s only the toenail. But really? Are you 100% certain this is the only way?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG [smiling]: “I’m certain. Don’t you trust me?”
Me [telling a white lie so as not to hurt his feelings, and think of this: smile with scruffy goatee]: “Well, yes, I trust you. If I didn’t I’d have gone running from the room when you said you had to remove my entire toenail. Well, hopping. I would have hopped from the room.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG [comes toward me with the first of four syringes with needles so long you could knit an afghan with them]: “First, I’m going to numb your toe completely.”
Me: “Wait! I need something else to hold since there are no Toms available. Let me get my boyfriend.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG looks puzzled. I reach into my purse, pull out my iPhone, and hug it closely to my chest.
Me [hugging my iPhone]: “What? I love my iPhone boyfriend. He comforts me. Okay. You may proceed.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG looks as though he’s considering calling in a psych evaluation.
Me: “I’m really much braver than I seem. I’ve been through worse things than having a toenail removed. Honest, I have. I’ve had three children and taken the bar exam. Actually? The bar exam was the most painful. That thing took three days. Three painful days. What? Not funny? Sorry. I’ve had to rely on humor to get me through many a crisis in my life. Sometimes I’m not funny though.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “Okay, I’m going to start the injections now, so don’t move your foot.”
Me: “Oh my God! You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? You’re sure, right? Yes, you’re sure. You said that. Okay. Go ahead. Also? I babble when I’m nervous. You don’t have to respond or anything. My husband? He’s used to me. He just patiently listens. You’re being awfully patient too. Thank you.”
[SOUND OF CRICKETS]
Me: “Owww! Oh! Owww! Eff! Eff! Frick! Frick!”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “You can say the F-word if you want.”
Me: “I’d rather not. Not that I’m opposed to the F-word. Owww! Frick! Eff! I use it often enough. Eff! Frick! Eff!”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG [putting another needle sideways into my toe]: “So why not say it now?”
Me: “Owww! Good question! Frick! Eff! If I opt not to use it this time, a time when I really deserve to use it, then it will offset all the times that I said the F-word without really needing it. This will give me karmic balance.”
[SOUND OF CRICKETS]
Me: “What are you doing now?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “Waiting for the toe to get completely numb.”
Me: “Oh my gosh, by all means, please wait for that. I don’t suppose you could put me to sleep? Knock me out! Wake me up when it’s time for a pedicure! No? I suppose not. That would be inconvenient. I’d need a ride home and stuff. Okay, we’ll just do the numbing thing. I won’t feel anything, right?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “You’ll just feel a little pressure. I’m removing the nail now. I want you to look at your toe so I can show you why the nail had to be removed.”
Me: “Are you kidding me? I’m not looking. No way. Is it bleeding? Is it green? Look at it? You want me to look at it? Me? Do you want me to faint? Well, I’m already lying down. I’m afraid. Really? I should look? Now?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “I really do want you to look.”
I look at my foot.
Me: “Oh. My. God. Oh. I wish I hadn’t looked.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “But see this [pointing at the horror that ought not be described]? This must be cleaned out and to do that the toenail had to come off.”
Me: “It’s BLEEDING! There’s blood all over the place. Why is there so much blood? Oh. My. God. It looks like Dexter was here. Do you watch Dexter? I love that show. I don’t mind the blood on television. I do mind it all over me though. Why did you make me look? Wow. This is a lot of blood. I wish I hadn’t looked.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “The blood is a good thing right now. It will help clean out the infected area.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG pulls up my pant leg to keep it out of the blood.
Me: “Oh, just leave my pant leg down. I didn’t shave my legs.”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “Don’t worry. I won’t judge you.”
Me: “Hey, that was funny. You’re funny. How long until my toenail grows back? It will grow back, right?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “About six months.”
Me: “Really? How am I supposed to do things without a toenail?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “What things?”
Me: “I don’t KNOW. Walk. Run. Wear shoes. I suppose ballet is out. Pedicures too. Not much point in painting nine toenails red for the holidays and drawing attention to the one big bare toe. But at least I have all ten toes. Do I need to come back and see you for a follow up or anything?”
Dr. SHCWGSAADSG: “Only if you have nothing else to do.”
Me: “Okay. I do have something else to do. And it’s a good thing that I have something else to do because now I’m too embarrassed to come back anyway.”
Then Dr. SHCWGSAADSG wrapped up my toe in gauze and covered it with a blue cohesive bandage.
And? Maybe Santa will bring me a set of these for my toes: