Okay, so yesterday started off as well as can be expected when it starts with an alarm clock (a thing unequaled in its insidiousness), and I managed to scratch out a post and get myself cleaned, fed and partially clothed when I walked into the bedroom and caught the wooden corner of the bed with my foot. Now, in my defense, it's dark in the morning, and I try to be quiet while spouse is still sleeping. But no, shooting terrible pain as I hopped up and down on one foot exclaiming "Shit" repetetively and loudly. This was enough to rouse spouse to see what all the hubbub was about. Finally I calmed down enough for us to inspect the damage. (I'm thinking it's nothing, stubbed toes always hurt like shit) and then we saw that my middle toe was all crossed over the 4th and pinky toe, roughly 90 degrees from its normal position. It looked either broken, or like a toe had been removed from its socket. Spouse immediately cried "Ew, gross" while laughing. This is precisely the response I would have had if the tables were turned so I laughed too, albeit a bit hysterically. Then he said, "Hey let me pull on it, maybe it'll go back!" I, clearly in a state of shock, agreed to LET HIM. So he gave a couple of yanks and there were some popping noises but it still bent over to the right. Oddly not much pain. The area seemed numb and like my foot was no longer a part of my body. Probably a bad sign but no time for that. Now, I was getting behind, I had to go teach a class, and the bus doesn't wait. So, I threw on my shoes and socks and hobbled to class and taught the lesson.
When I came out, I decided to have another look especially since a low throbbing pain developed during class. And I thought maybe magically, from being inside the shoes or something, that the toe would be back in its place. So I took off my shoe, and then my sock, and there was the toe, all bluish and swollen along with a good portion of my foot. It still pointed sideways. I had to do something so I put on my wincing face in anticipation and attempted to put the toe back in its socket. I pushed and nudged, grimaced and whimpered, and after several squishy sounds and crackling noises it seemed to find its place (kind of like putting a stick shift in gear), it went back - sort of . The magnitude of the pain during the squishing and crackling brought a quick rush of tears to my eyes, and now I can't even be sure if it's in its right place, still looks a tad crooked to me, but that could be the swelling. I hear there's not much one can do in this situation except let things take their course.
This is my old nemesis, the newborn gazelle syndrome at work again; gangly and uncoordinated at times, I fall going up the stairs, and break my foot walking into my own bedroom. You just know I'm gonna be that guy who accidentally gets hit by a bus.