A tale of a broken toe

As per usual, she was belting around the house. She couldn’t remember if she was cleaning or just running from one room to another, (because, as odd as it may seem, she does run around the house. Not seemly for a fifty year old, but why change the habit of a lifetime?).  So, there she is, belting around when suddenly, ‘crack’ and she is swearing loudly and clutching her foot.

This was inconvenient. A rapidly swelling, blue-turning-black little toe was seriously going to compromise her plans to wear her beautiful new, blue suede wedges with the gorgeous rosettes on their toes. She was a nurse and should have known better, but she was not going to let what was happening to her toe, spoil her day. She forced the swollen foot into her lovely shoes and by the time she had driven to the Bridal Shower, her foot was throbbing and she wasn’t feeling well :(She struggled through the afternoon and even managed to play a game or two, but by the end she was walking like an arthritic old woman. mrs-mcgillicuddy1

She didn’t want to think that the toe might be broken, but after a couple of days hobbling around at work and increasing pain and swelling, her Boss (a Professorial Fellow no less) told her it probably was. The heat in the pinky was intolerable at times and the toe seemed to catch on her bedlinen so she wasn’t sleeping well at night. Day 4, she finally decided that strapping it was a good idea and she may as well ice and elevate the wretched thing- instant relief.

Unfortunately, that was three weeks ago and any healing that has taken place has been well and truly compromised by the three cracks her toe has suffered since.

She is still strapped and hobbling. Photo 1045

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6 thoughts on “A tale of a broken toe

  1. This is a great tale reflecting the ability to let one preoccupation dominate the callings of common sense. This is a very good, humorous and self-deprecating Blog, and I wanted to say all this on your ‘About’ page but I can’t find one. As regards ‘beauty’. It so often is in the eye of the beholder. When I look at my other half I see a slightly skittish and unaware beauty, but when she looks in the mirror she sees a lady in her mid-fifties who might have had an extended conversation with doughnuts. The difference is, I see her from the inside out, and that changes in a very different way to our exteriors

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