Cody manages to remain relatively injury-free in forbidding environments. I should be safe at home, right?
I forgot one aspect of Cody’s shoe-free lifestyle. He slows down. Taking deliberate steps, he negotiates rocky, thorny, or snake-inhabited terrain. His partner (formerly Dave, recently replaced by Joe), may grow frustrated at Cody’s slow pace, but going barefoot means taking your time.
Where did I go wrong? In my defense, I was wearing flip-flops. I know those aren’t shoes in most folks’ estimation, but they do provide protection against sharp objects poking your feet from below. Toes remain vulnerable. But that’s true whether you’re wearing 99 cent flip-flops or hundred dollar designer sandals.
So I was assisting my husband on our deck, hopping around in my usual manic style. Wham! I forgot about the pipe sticking up out of the deck, where a former homeowner connected their grill to natural gas. I heard the familiar crack of breaking toe-bone. I only uttered one curse word, followed by a string of “ow”s.
The swelling and bruising was immediate. This wasn’t my first broken-toe rodeo, so I opted out of a trip to the doctor. The last time I broke this same toe, I got lots of sympathy from the medical profession for the severity of the break, followed by “you know we can’t do anything for broken toes.”
So here I go again. I taped the broken toe to the next toe – the buddy toe. This goes on for 2 to 4 weeks, I learned on a medical website. Meanwhile, I am hobbling around, and digging all my half-size-or-more-too-big shoes out of the closet.
My husband’s comment when I broke my toe? “That’s what they make shoes for.” I am in denial. It wasn’t the lack of footwear that brought me to this pass. It was my inability to slow down. Which I now must do. For 2 to 4 weeks.
Join me next week when I start a discussion of my foray into the electronic world of book promotion.