Pre-pandemic pedicure requires podiatrist.
Bet you know where this one’s going, but anywho, this is my story for today. You’ve probably heard of the perils of pedicures. You know, when the unwitting customer sits in her reclining, variable massage chair, relaxing with a bit of complementary bubbly while listening to international chitchat by others (mostly women) who pick out polish colors ranging from peach to periwinkle to puce, and in the meantime the foot “specialist” smiles and asks how you how long to clip your toe nails and you reply. “Not too short please.” And as you sit back, she is trimming, again you say “not so much” but still they look short, after which you go home and stare at your toes and wonder how long it will take before your feet look less like they were trimmed by an anal retentive four year old. That was me.
And then the pandemic forced those of us who trust the world’s responsible leaders and scientists to self isolate. So I did. And the months passed and still the great toe’s nail on my left foot refused to grow, or so I thought, until I realized, to my chagrin and later horror, it might instead be growing widthwise while the length remained the same. Yikes! The pain, though not excruciating was present, not when I walked, as one might suppose, but when I rested. What?
Now, one would think, or at least I did, that I could wait til the city opened up, so I waited, until two days ago when I decided to visit my doc for a script refill for my blood pressure meds. In passing I mentioned: “By the way, doc, should I see a podiatrist?” I then showed him my toe and he responded, “Yes! Now! Here’s a referral, call her today.” And so I did.
My appointment was for 1:45pm, yesterday. By 2:30 I was still waiting in the exam room, getting slightly agitated until I remembered I’d spent the past few months doing fuckall about the aforementioned toe, so a bit more time was cool. It was about the time of my epiphany about waiting that the doctor arrived, examined my foot and gave me two options, though now I can only remember the second one, which was to anesthetize my toe, cut the sides of the toe nail down, apply some sort of acid to stop it from growing widthwise, cleanse, debride, apply antibiotics and bandages and limp to my car. All of this occurred.
It was maybe twenty minutes after I got home, went to the bathroom, got my iPad and a humongous glass of ice water, and sat down with my leg elevated, that the anesthesia began to wear off, rapidly. Then it was a swift descent into nonstop pain-hell which continued until about 11am today which was roughly thirty minutes ago. Semi-relief, aaaah. Now the throbbing pain is intermittent, which is a good thing. Now I might be able to catch a few winks because sleep was not an option last night, nor this morning, save the stupor and exhaustion between 3 and 5 am when I crawled to the toilet, peed, then curled up on the bathroom floor, moaning, immobile and slightly nauseated. Did I mention I’m allergic to pain meds? I took none except arnica and hypericum homeopathics but only when I extricated my exhausted body off the floor.
Before I close this and hopefully nap, I thought I’d announce, as you are my witness, my decision to never, ever, without equivocation, step one foot in another nail salon, because no matter how much I like to have someone massage my hands and feet then make them look somewhat presentable, I’m unwilling to risk it. I’m going on YouTube after my some serious shuteye to learn about diy mani-pedis.