‘Mind the toe,’ I told my partner several times a day after my toenail was surgically removed. I told him this so often, if he was given a euro for every time I warned him not to accidentally bump into me, he would have been loaded. That pile of money would have been enough to buy me a bouquet and a get-well-soon-dear-toe card.
So, the toe. An infection bothered me for over four months and I was first given zinc cream and later antibiotic ointment. This came with the caution not to be used orally which I read just in time. I was about to have it on a cracker. But not even antibiotic pills, nor my pleading or emotional blackmail (‘I’ve been trying so hard and still you don’t get better. You’ve really let me down.’) could fix it. Even though I was hoping that one day, the infection would be magically solved, the toe cured by itself and me singing ‘this is the moment’.
There was only one solution: remove the nail.
‘What about now,’ my GP suggested when visiting him for something entirely different.
It was really kind and helpful of him, saving me another trip to his office and thereby lots of energy because of my ME.
‘Crap, crap, crap,’ were the first three things that came to mind, before my rational brain took over and agreed.
Fifteen minutes later I hopped around and slid very ungracefully back into my wheelchair, my shoe on my lap.
‘But at least I restrained myself from cursing,’ I beamed at the doctor from sheer relief that I had something less to worry about, or so I presumed.
‘Yes, that would have been something.’
Wait! What? Have I never ever cursed in his presence?
That is me, being all ladylike. For instance, not complaining, nor swearing about the nerve-wracking amount of puss that was to be found for days on end (enough for at least a cracker or two). But when my partner returned from grocery shopping the day after the nail was removed, and tried to kiss me (my lips, not my feet) he came too close for comfort as I yelled: ‘mind the motherfucking toe.’
Now I come to think of it… perhaps I should have been the one buying flowers.
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This post is also available in: Dutch