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The Terrible Toe Tragedy of Two Thousand Thirteen

July 24, 2013 Had this been a written fictional occurrence, there would be at least two cases of foreshadowing readers would have encountered.

That July morning, I stretched out my legs in front of me, noting that my toenails were due for clipping and/or filing. I didn't think too much about it, just the fleeting annoyance that comes with regularly wearing sandals in the summer. (Foreshadowing!)

My morning continued with me watching the weekday "threepeat" of Supernatural reruns on TNT. One of the episodes was A Very Supernatural Christmas. Pagan gods end up torturing Sam and Dean during that one. I'm freaked out by even writing this, but, Sam gets his fingernail ripped completely off in the process, which looks rather painful. (Foreshadowing!)

Well it is excruciatingly painful!

You see, later that afternoon, I was on the horn with my sister. I don't recall what we were talking about; I suppose that doesn't matter to the story, really. I can't explain the way I was sitting on the couch. What I can explain is what happened next. It all happened so fast.

Distracted by the conversation, I let the ash on my cigarette get too long, which led to the cherry falling onto my lap.

I leapt off the couch into the air, frantically trying to smother the ash/possible fire by brushing my body with my hands while simultaneously screaming about fire. The flaming ash had fallen to the ground and I managed to snuff it out with my right foot.

Keep in mind, my sister is listening to this. "What's happening?!" she demanded. "Why does my left toe feel like it's on fire?" I thought. I looked at my left toe expecting to see more flaming ash, expecting I was being burned.

Wrong. My left toenail had been ripped up into a perpendicular position AND THAT MOTHERFUCKING HURT! EVEN LOOKING AT IT HURT! I started yelling, Jerky-Boys-style. I mean I was already hollering about the flaming ash but now I had a real problem. "WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Jenn yelled from the speaker of my dropped phone.

I did my best to explain but I was still in shock. Mere seconds had gone by.
Evidently, during my leap from the couch, my toenail got snagged on the material, getting tangled in such a way that tore the entire thing away from the nail bed. This ended up causing me pain I cannot describe to you. And I'm pretty damn familiar with physical pain.

Goddamn it, that was so fucking painful.

I continued the over-the-top wailing. My sister, thinking quickly, turned her phone's video camera on to capture the sounds of my agony. It went on and on and on. Unable to stifle it, Jenn laughed heartily. Don't feel bad, I'd totally laugh at her if it was the other way around.

At some point my mother emerged from somewhere to see what the ruckus was about. She cut as much of the nail off as she could using a scissors as I continued crying and yelling.

Seriously, having a nail ripped off is FUCKING PAINFUL.

I had to go to a walk-in clinic to get it properly looked at. (I hate hospitals and I'm sure the wait would've been longer.) They gave me pills and cream along with a regimen for getting it to heal properly.
My mother is the one who ended up caring for it, really. Even having something go near it when it wasn't all wrapped up was frightening and hurtful and would leave me crying like a baby. So I had to have my "Mommy" do it.
God bless that poor woman.

It took nearly a year for my nail to grow back. It took a lot to get my poor big toe back in shape.

It was a notable incident and I've been meaning to write about it since it first happened. For whatever reason I was able to give it a go today.

So there you have it.

THE TERRIBLE TOE TRAGEDY OF TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN


Monday September 22 2014: it echoes to this day...

antecedent subsequent

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