SO exciting, I know.
I ripped most of my toenail off in the bathtub on Sunday. Hurt way less than you would think and didn't make a noise, so you can reduce your wincing by about 60%. It's still stuck on at the bottom but the top part is like a trapdoor. The nail's not cracked or anything, and there wasn't much blood, so I'm just keeping it really dry and soaking it in epsom salts once or twice a day, like I did when I had toenail surgery. I've gotten conflicting advice about whether to leave it or cut the loose part off, and both sources were credible, so I'm just doing what physically feels best.
I am not asking for advice, really; just telling you this so that if I wind up dead overnight, you will know it was my toe.
It doesn't really hurt. The irritating part is that the Band-Aid I put on there to cover it and keep it tacked down apparently disagreed with my toe, so the skin on the underside is blistered all up and is itching like a bitch-dicking motherfucker. It feels like athlete's foot +1, cursed berserking. And for all I know, it may be some sort of hideous fungal infection, or lead to one, so I'm applying lots of revolting stuff to the area in an effort to stave off further suck.
After it happened and I discovered the extent of the damage, I completely wigged out. I had a 20-minute-long attack of the heebie-jeebies. My hands would not stop shaking and I could not stop squirming and grimacing and waving my arms around. It was really embarrassing, but I'm sure it was also pretty funny. Unless you were Sargon, who had to go out and find bigger Band-Aids. I'm sorry about that.
Also embarrassing: because my regular shoes are right out, I was wearing my only pair of open-toed shoes today when I went to see my therapist. They're Rare Earth buffalo hide sandals that lace up the calf. The lace on my right sandal fell down around my ankle while I was checking in, and when I turned to go walk to the nearest chair and re-tie it, the lacings caught on a table leg and I pitched flat on my face, and my wallet and my book and my sunglasses went all over the floor.
There were, like, five people in the waiting room, and none of them said a goddamn thing about it, and I can't decide if that bothers me more than if someone had. I don't mean someone should have asked if I was okay, I was obviously okay. But if I am going to make a dumbass out of myself in public, people should laugh appreciatively. Yet nobody said a word. They just pretended they didn't notice me pitching onto my face and then swearing up a blue streak. (I think the first words out of my mouth were "Sacred bleeding fuck!" Thanks, Sarah Monette!)
I guess I'm glad I wasn't laughed at, but the little privacy spheres that people surround themselves with are really strange to me.
I am not asking for advice, really; just telling you this so that if I wind up dead overnight, you will know it was my toe.
It doesn't really hurt. The irritating part is that the Band-Aid I put on there to cover it and keep it tacked down apparently disagreed with my toe, so the skin on the underside is blistered all up and is itching like a bitch-dicking motherfucker. It feels like athlete's foot +1, cursed berserking. And for all I know, it may be some sort of hideous fungal infection, or lead to one, so I'm applying lots of revolting stuff to the area in an effort to stave off further suck.
After it happened and I discovered the extent of the damage, I completely wigged out. I had a 20-minute-long attack of the heebie-jeebies. My hands would not stop shaking and I could not stop squirming and grimacing and waving my arms around. It was really embarrassing, but I'm sure it was also pretty funny. Unless you were Sargon, who had to go out and find bigger Band-Aids. I'm sorry about that.
Also embarrassing: because my regular shoes are right out, I was wearing my only pair of open-toed shoes today when I went to see my therapist. They're Rare Earth buffalo hide sandals that lace up the calf. The lace on my right sandal fell down around my ankle while I was checking in, and when I turned to go walk to the nearest chair and re-tie it, the lacings caught on a table leg and I pitched flat on my face, and my wallet and my book and my sunglasses went all over the floor.
There were, like, five people in the waiting room, and none of them said a goddamn thing about it, and I can't decide if that bothers me more than if someone had. I don't mean someone should have asked if I was okay, I was obviously okay. But if I am going to make a dumbass out of myself in public, people should laugh appreciatively. Yet nobody said a word. They just pretended they didn't notice me pitching onto my face and then swearing up a blue streak. (I think the first words out of my mouth were "Sacred bleeding fuck!" Thanks, Sarah Monette!)
I guess I'm glad I wasn't laughed at, but the little privacy spheres that people surround themselves with are really strange to me.