March 3, 2009


Or how I learned to stop worrying and embrace my infection.

/Facebook copypasta

A thrilling if agonizing jolt of pain races up my calf whenever I rotate my foot just so, unfortunately I'm starting to like it so I keep doing it.

So if you've seen me status messages/tweets about draining pus (or as Daniel called it "fluid" but I like pus) out of my foot you might have wondered what the fuck happened and why I was doing this. Other than the fact that I'm crazy. Well, the tale is MORE HARROWING THAN YOU THINK.

Yesterday afternoon my new pair of shoes arrived and so did a friend who wanted me to accompany her to dinner. I did so and to dinner we went. My new shoes fit pretty well and I hope the weather gets warm enough that I can break them in more. Unfortunately, it seems that whenever I buy new shoes something horribly wrong happens. Like yesterday.

After dinner friendy has to go to a study meeting. I walk her there since I needed to go to the library and look for a damn illustrated copy of the Jungle Book. Were none. Make own. Note to self.

But before I can even get to the library proper, as I go up the stairs there is a painful jolt in my right foot. I look down and see droplets of blood on the stair steps and a little pool on the side of my shoe. I look down and think, "Oh shit I must have scraped it." Mind you it was quite cold yesterday so it's perfectly logical that I might have hurt myself and not felt it, it's happened before. Strange but possible, I guess. Still not totally sure how I pulled that off.

So I do what any self reliant trooper would and ignored it, continuing on my merry way to the library, which soon turned into the longest walk ever as the new fake leather continually rubbed against my new wound. By the time I got to those annoying slide doors I was thinking about just abandoning my quest and hobbling myself back to the dorm room but no, damnit, I was at the doors! So I go in.

Like I said I didn't find my illustrated copy of the Jungle Book, and was sad. I did find books on teaching kids about drugs and masturbation but I would have looked extremely creepy hording those out so I left them. Such was my great pain that I wobbled to the bathroom and put some tissue between my injury and the shoe. Wasn't bleeding as bad as I thought, actually it was barely. It looked like it'd even healed up a bit and was just sore. So by the time I get back to the first floor I'm having a bit of "runner's high" and feeling little to nothing as I pimp walk back to my dorm.

Well now the fun starts. Get the shoes off, decide to bandage foot up after I have a little rest. I rest a little and look down at my foot and something is off. It's healed alright, but it looks like I've attached a tiny plastic bag to the injury. And it was filled with...something. Like, I could see damn air bubbles I thought. What the FUCK? I thought.

I decided that this wasn't natural and/or good at all so I flip my foot over the low lying, dusty sink for further investigation. It didn't look any better under fluorescent light but there's a the sack. I had no idea what to make of it--was it a blister? A really ugly looking wound? I can't say what really drove me to pick up the tiny manicure scissors other than disgusted curiosity and a fear that I might be getting my foot cut off soon by some over eager assistant nurse, so I poked at the white spot. It shifted. Then I poked it again. I couldn't feel anything so I tilted the scissors up ever so slightly and made a tiny pinhole...


Stuff came out. Stuff. Clearish, odorless, thick fluid came out in copious amounts as I held my foot over the sink. I pushed the more bulbous part of the "sack" and more fluid spilled. I stared in a sort of reverent awe then realized my cell phone was behind me. I simply had to get fotos of this miraculous event!

So I hobbled over but in the process, duh, had to put my foot down so I ended up getting most of the gobbledygunk on the floor and no good pictures. So I settled for texting my unofficial doctor in training about my exciting events. Meanwhile I finally realized that I may have a problem here, so I cut the "sack" off using a pair of tweezers & the scissors, cleaned it, put some cream on it and a bandage, silently thanking my mother for knowing her daughter is a fearless loon.

And that's about as harrowing as it gets. I haven't even told you my dentistry story. With the same tools. (Don't worry it was before this incident.)

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