dont worry. we called a toe truck.

Warning: This post contains graphic descriptions of a most heinous act of bloody stupidity. Do not read this while you are eating.

So last night I got mad at Frank because I wanted to play Wii golf and he’s bored with Wii golf, and I was of the opinion that he should just be thrilled that I wanted to play anything at all since I don’t even like video games. Anyway, I decided to act like a big baby to get my point across, instead of just telling him, because as y’all know, I’m a woman, and we don’t act rationally when we’re mad. So we were playing Wii bowling and I just sat on the couch and threw the ball rather than actually getting up and trying. Then Frank realized I was mad and apologized after he realized I was mad that he wasn’t just happy I wanted to play anything, blah blah blah. Well, I was completely retarded and instead of accepting his apology, I told him that I didn’t want to play anything with him.

So I got up and went over to the stairs, at the bottom of which there was a bookcase waiting to go upstairs. So I grabbed the bookcase and started dragging it up the stairs, even though it was heavy-ish. I kept dragging it, waiting for him to come help me, but not asking him to, because as was previously stated, I was crazy angry that he didn’t appreciate my willingness to play any game at all with him. Of course, he was saying things like (lazily), “Do you want some help?” because I was acting like a total child. And because of that whole child thing, I was like, “No! I don’t want your help!” Because you’re a dumbstoopidhead!

So when I got to the middle landing of the stairs, I shifted the bookcase to get it in front of the top half of the stairs so I could drag it straight up. But as I moved it over, my left big toe didn’t get out of the way in time, and I dropped that bookcase right on top of my toe. Boy, that hurt like a son of a gun. So this was when Frank said, “Do you need to go sit in a corner until you calm down?” or something patronizing like that. And then I looked down at my toe. The whole top part of the toe was bloody. Which, of course, made it hurt even more. So I said, “No! I don’t need to sit in a corner, because I just smashed my toe!” And I walked gingerly up the stairs to get to the master bathroom, lifting my poor beleaguered toe up so as not to drip blood on the rented carpet (that method didn’t work).

I got to the bathroom and shut the door most of the way so Frank wouldn’t hear me crying, because if he heard me crying, how could I be angry with him later for not hearing me cry and coming to my rescue? And as I dripped blood all over the tile (and I mean ALL over the tile), I realized just how much my toe hurt. Like. The. Dickens. And I just started wailing. I pretty much had no control over that. I tried not to be loud, but that apparently didn’t work, because when I started yelping like a chihuahua, I heard Rowdi start barking. And she was wooo-wooo-woooing loudly and apparently running halfway up the stairs (the other half having been blocked by the bookcase) to alert Daddy that Timmy was in much pain in the well. Of course, we’re spraying Rowdi in the face with the water bottle any time she barks so we can break her of that nasty habit (nothing else works), so while I was yip-yapping in the bathroom, Frank was dutifully stopping the dog from barking, not hearing my pain.

I soaked many wads of toilet paper with blood until I realized my toe was never going to stop bleeding, and I was going to bleed out, right there on the loverly tile in the bathroom — what a way to go. At least Frank would be comforted by my term life insurance.

I hadn’t unpacked the band-aids yet, but I knew they were in an opened box right next to the bathroom door, so I crawled over and grabbed the band-aids and pre-soaked alcohol swabs. I cleaned my toe several times with the alcohol swabs, but the reality was I was going to die from a toe bleed which just would not stop. Oh, plus the alcohol just made me yelp louder, because holy crap, y’all. Thank goodness they weren’t peroxide swabs, or I would have died from the pain of cleaning my toe.

Here lies SarahK.
Died from sheer pain trying to clean her toe.
Survived by a husband who knew she was crazy.
And a wet-faced barking dog.

It was hard (still is) to determine just how bad my toe was/is doing. I thought I had gashes on the bottom of the toe, but apparently that was just alcohol pain that engulfed my entire toe. I had a profusely bleeding gash on the front of the toe, between the nail and the knuckle — that sucker was all purple and just wouldn’t stop gushing. There was the slash between the big toe and second toe that bled but stopped quickly, and I noticed today that the continuance of the slash goes diagonally down the top of my foot for almost two inches. And then there’s the nail. I probably won’t know for a few days whether I’m going to lose part of the nail. Nor will I know if I kinda cut off the tip of my toe or not. See, there’s a big ol’ skin bubble (yummy!) on the top of the toe, connected to the smashed-in nail, and every time I try to move the skin to see if the tip of the toe is just held on by skin or a little bit of toe meat (muscle, I guess?), the pain is too excruciating to bear, so I give up and put the band-aid back on.

I bandaged up my foot and stopped crying long enough that I could walk down and check the carpet for a blood trail (there is one), and I saw Rowdi lying on the middle landing behind the bookcase, looking utterly worried. I sat down and petted her for a minute and talked loudly (for Frank’s benefit) about how at least she tried to help me (I was now angry at the fact that Frank hadn’t put on his super-sonic hearing and discerned that I was sobbing and wailing in the bathroom upstairs). But then she started sniffing at my toe, and since I was afraid she might bite it off because pit bull mixes love the taste of human flesh, I pulled back from her and went upstairs. Frank said something, I don’t remember what, and I just yelled at him that my toe had been smashed to bits and he didn’t care if I died. Or something like that. Then I went back to the bathroom and decided I should get in the shower.

I heard Frank following me upstairs, so I locked the bathroom door. Again, I wanted to be able to unleash my full wrath on him as a ghost later (since I would shortly be dying). I gingerly pulled off all the bandages (there were four) and was just about to undress when I heard Frank outside the bathroom door saying something. “What?” said I in my pained yet still fuming voice. I still couldn’t hear what he was saying, so I opened the door and then turned around for the shower. I got neckid (believe me, if you’re picturing this, it wasn’t sexy, as I was covered in tears and half of my own blood, so make that little adjustment in your heads — better yet, don’t picture anything but my nasty toe) and got in the shower while big dumbstoopidhead started talking to me. I don’t remember any specifics except that I was crying and telling him how he should have listened to the bad barking dog to see if I was okay and how come he didn’t even bother to check on me knowing how upset I was and after I’d said I’d smashed my toe. He said something about figuring it was best to just let me simmah down before he tried to talk to me. And I was like, I’m not a dog who you just walk and run around in circles until she works out all her energy and aggression and why do you think I’m a dog and you’re such a butthead and go away go away go away and no Guitar Hero tonight or tomorrow! (I rethought my position on all of the above, and he’s actually playing GH right now.)

Pain does not make me more coherent, nor does it make my crazy dissipate. So then as I sat on the floor in the shower, waiting for the blood and the pain to stop, Frank brought in the big guns — Minerva. He started holding her by her front paws and making her dance for me, and then tap on the glass, then asked if I wanted Minerva to come in with me. Somewhere along in there, my toe stopped bleeding quite so copiously, and I finally got out of the shower. Of course, that was peppered throughout with, “Go away! Go away! You leave me alone!” though the intensity of my insistences quickly subsided to become vain repetitions of, “Go away. You go. Leave me alone…” It’s the dancing kitty thing — I’m a sucker for it!

Anyway, after I was out of the shower, we apologized to each other. He for not realizing he was being selfish before I went crazy (he tried to do this while I was in the shower, but I didn’t listen), and me for going crazy and smashing my toe in a fit of outrageous stupidity. I bandaged up my toe again, this time with only three bandages, and we got dressed for bed. My crazy had tired Frank out so much that he didn’t even want to read a comic book before going to sleep. I was fine for reading half a chapter of Harry Potter OTP, though.

My toe is not much better today. I’m down to two bandages, but the bleeding starts back up every time I take them off, and the nail/skin part still hurts too badly to try to figure out if the big piggy is just barely hanging on.

wRitErsbLock emailed me this morning, and in my reply to her, I said that I had smashed my toe to bits. “Why?” “Because I was mad at Frank.” Who, by the way, finished moving the bookcase into the reading room while I was in the shower. When I thanked him for doing that, he was like, “Of course I finished moving it. It’s not heavy.” RARR. Try dropping it on your toe and see if you feel the same way.

I slept several hours this afternoon in the chair in the reading room. I think all the blood loss and dehydration from crying really wiped out all of my energy. I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to ever wear a left shoe again.

27 Responses to dont worry. we called a toe truck.

  1. I think you need to seek medical attention. If a cut is still bleeding at this point, I’d say stitches are in order.

  2. Yeah really, you need get yourself to a ER and get that thing looked at. getting a toe hacked off is not fun kiddo.

    just sayin’

  3. I agree with Jennifer.
    A still bleeding gash is nothing to ignore medically.
    In March, it took me all day to convince my elder care client to go to the hospital to get stitches for a gash in his forehead he got when he tripped and hit his head-it wouldn’t stop bleeding. He’s stubborn, but now he says he will listen to me if something like that ever happens again.
    Please, get it checked out.

  4. Ouch! Yep, I’d go to urgent care. *nodding*

    That was a highly entertaining account of the accident and drama surrounding same. I love the way you write… ;)

  5. the things you do for blog fodder!

    Bad Frank not being able to read your mind!

  6. thank you frank for having the patience of job. or is it jobe? oh crap, i don’t remember.

  7. glad to know I’m not the only girl who goes crazy on her husband! So this is probably the least of your worries but (and it’s gross, kinda) if you spit on the blood on the carpet it will come up a lot better, something with enzymes or something. my SIL stayed w/us one winter and her puppy cut his paws on the ice and got blood all over my brand new carpet and that was the only way we got it out….
    Hope your toe gets better :)

  8. Oh, and hydrogen peroxide is great to get blood out of almost anything.

  9. This is a prime example of why it was a mistake to give women rights.

  10. I’m sorry you’re injured. Sounds serious. I agree with others who say might oughta get it checked …

    … and now would it be totally inappropriate for me to inquire do you really hold your husband’s video game privileges under your power?

  11. LottieDotties SIL

    Got super-glue– works great! Saves time and $ and no Dr.s or needles involved.
    Doesn’t work so great if you are planning on getting in the hot tub, swimming pool or soaking in the tub– but then you just re-apply. Good luck–
    I need you humor everyday– keep it up!

  12. oooohhhh my. I do so hope your toe is better soon!

    Oh – and just fyi – the last (well, ONLY) time I locked myself in the bathroom because I was irrationally angry at my hubby (Crazy McCrazy angry!!) it turned out that I was pregnant with my first.

    And I was on the pill. Just sayin’… ; )

  13. what? you’re pregnant?? yippee!

  14. Richmond, NO! I am NOT on the pill!

    Haha, y’all thought I was going to say I’m not pregnant. But I won’t know that until my monthly visitor shows up in a day or two…

    Oh, and good news, everyone! My toe has stopped bleeding.

  15. Good news about the not bleeding anymore, but please still get it checked out. I got a hockey stick on the top of the boot and never got it checked out… and my nail is now pretty much permanently half-detached. It won’t fall off, but it won’t fix, and it’s been years with funky bigtoe nail. You need your toes to walk properly! Get it checked, for us! (And for poor Frank.)

  16. 1st: I agree with all, you should get it checked out regardless of the fact it stopped bleeding. Maybe they can’t do much for it and just let it heal, but just get it checked anyway…for us.

    2nd: I don’t like that you two had a negative moment but I do like reading these types of things because it makes me realize I’m normal. I’ve met you, hung around with you and I guess sometimes I forget that you two are just as human as the rest of us and will have your moments…these types of stories make me realize that we ALL have our moments and it’s ok.

    3rd: Your timing with this story is surprisingly right on time whether you realize it or not.

  17. I’m just glad it wasn’t your pinkytoe that got injured. Or your pinkytoe. Or one of your pinkytoes.

    (You just knew your pinkytoe joke would come back and bite you on your pinkytoe one day, didn’t you?)

  18. Hi, SarahK:

    OK, I’ll admit it. I laughed.

    Injuries to the feet are often very painful and inaccessible to be made better by the one injured.

    Should this happen again, remeber toelevate the injury and clean it off under streaming cold water. Even if it means lying in the tub with your foot under the fixture. The cold water will help numb the cut or injury and negate the chance of stains. Elevation will help keep the injury from bleeding so much.

    I’m with everybody else in saying that you have your foot checked out.

    Jack.

  19. SarahK-girl when was your last tetnus shot? You may need to get you another one. My doctor told me five years if you get a cut or injury, but seven if you don’t. I am with every one else-get to a doctor NOW! If nothing else maybe they will give you a shot for the pain, and stitch it up to stop the bleeding. Oh yeah and when it bleeds use the verse of Ezekial 16:6KJV. It is known as the blood verse and works great.

  20. POOR FRANK! I’ve seen those fits, and it’s not pretty! Next time, stop taking the bandages on and off just to look at it. Let them do their job! DUH! Frank should have played what you wanted to play, and you should have NEVER had to move the bookcase up the stairs! Ha, I took the end of my toe off moving a couch because a certain man didn’t listen to me! We need a revolution!!

  21. sounds like you aunt wanda – hurt yourself and blame poor Robert for it. did he get a whipping too? been there. de ja vu.

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  23. Ummm…still trying to see what Frank did wrong here? I know he apologized, and I know why, but I don’t see where he did anything apology-worthy! Other than not-reading-your-mind, not-hearing-you-from-the-other-side-of-the-house, and not-rushing-to-comfort-an-injury-he-didn’t-know-about, I’m not sure why he’s wrong.

    Hope your toe feels better, and Frank stops shaking his head soon!

    Chuck

  24. I wish I had “rented carpet”.

  25. Even if the bleeding is stopped, you may have a broken toe. Broken toes aren’t lethal but you should have the foot looked at within the next day or two.

    Whether the toe is broken or not, you may expect the toenale to turn a very dark purple before falling off entirely about four months from now. Happily, it will grow back again.

  26. Sarah! You’re a crazy girl. Hope your toe is all better. Next time your angry just withold hankypanky or something, don’t do physical labor.

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