But it's only a broken toe...

I broke my little toe a couple of weeks ago. It was a silly accident and I thought it would take just a couple of days to stop hurting then life would be back to normal. I was wrong.

Now I am feeling quite guilty about when my son broke his little toe many years ago and even though I did take him to the hospital, I didn't really exactly pamper him afterwards. My parenting approach may have been a bit more "pull yourself together" than "There, there darling" if I am honest.

I've heard it said many times:"Oh they don't do anything about a broken toe so there is no point going to the hospital."

I have reached the grand old age of 47 without ever breaking a single bone and was feeling a bit smug about this as if it was some kind of achievement which required skill on my part. I was very happy to tick the box saying "never broken bone" at my recent old lady bone density test. Well it does take some skill I suppose - it requires the ability not to be a blithering idiot in my case.

broken little toe, treatment and healing.

I was trying to catch up with some work while my husband went to fetch fish and chips after a long day at the hospital where my daughter had undergone a minor op on her eye. The room had gone dark as I was fixated on the glow of my laptop screen so when the doorbell sounded and I leapt up to answer it I failed to spot my 21-year-old son's size 10 walking shoes which had not entirely been put away in the correct place. I'm not exactly blaming him......but the facts speak for themselves. I tripped over his giant clown shoes with my delicate little feet.

I got to the front door to find my neighbour there and laughed:"I think I've broken my toe." I actually didn't think this - I thought I'd just stubbed it but glancing down I saw my toe was at right angles to my foot. Ah. Even I with no medical training could tell something was amiss.(by the time I thought to take a picture - for the blog obvs! it had swollen up and sadly looked much less exciting. Ive posted it anyway!)

Then the pain hit me. As I collapsed onto a nearby chair my husband arrived home with supper. I showed him my toe and told him what had happened. He disappeared into the kitchen and I wondered if he was fetching painkillers, ice or maybe a stiff brandy for the pain. No, dear reader, he was plating his dinner.

Apparently my toe could wait.

I watched him eat as I directed my 15-year-old daughter as she packed a bag for me. It's normally me who does this. I always take a book, a drink, some snacks as the downside of having a free health service is you have to wait. Sometimes hours. Sometimes many hours.

Off we went. I'll fast forward through the next few hours as my husband dozed and I tried to read despite having forgotten my glasses. Eventually I saw a tired-looking nurse who poked my toe and sent me for an x-ray. Yup. Toe broken.

Back to tired nurse who started fiddling with a big needle. I'm a teeny bit  totally needle phobic and was not liking the way the evening was panning out. Turns out if your toe is properly broken and at right angles they basically manipulate it back then strap it to the next toe for support.

The needle was for local anaesthetic before she yanked it back in place. Unfortunately she held my toe to inject the anaesthetic which resulted in me squealing like the proverbial stuck pig. There may have been wailing and moaning too. I'm not a brave bunny. She was not impressed and informed me the actual manipulation would hurt even more. 10 out of 10 for bedside manner luv!

Actually it didn't - it was gross because of the crunching noise as my toe was manoeuvred upright again but didn't hurt.

By the time I left the hospital it didn't hurt at all and the prospect of two weeks with my foot up sounded good to me. Hahahahaha. I have seven children, many of who still live at home. I have this job, and a job which requires me to drive to an actual office. I have ballet run, school run, church stuff, Guides and a busy social life, some of it mine.

I *may* have undone some of the nurse's good work running for a train after a cocktail making workshop for a major brand in London. The cocktails obviously numbed the pain at the time but I could certainly feel it the next morning.

And today shoving a filing cabinet against a wall in my office may have also not helped the healing.

On the plus side I am rocking the crocs and walking stick look.

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