Some of you will be lucky enough to remember my toe incident a couple of a few years ago. The one where I heroically sprinted to the garden to get a domestic appliance engineer a towel. The one where in a spectacular flying leap into the house I crushed my big toe against the sill of the door and fractured it. Plus blood. Plus a new sodding dishwasher as after all that it would have cost £200 to fix it and £201.50 for a new one. My left toe (the caring NHS doctor wrote right toe on all the forms) has never been the same since, and in colder weather it aches. Well, friends, there is more. Concerning the opposite big toe, the right-hand one, if Whipps Cross is reading. The day after I came back from Iceland it suddenly went numb. Not completely numb, just bloody irritating numb.
I have no idea why. A cursory internet seach found a page which listed 33 causes for a numb big toe. I didn't read it, I mean who would? My mother said that as she approached 40 her big toe suddenly went numb too, so clearly it's genetic and also isn't particularly fatal. It's just a mild, not quite pins and needles annoyance that two weeks later shows no signs of going away. Any doctors out there that can suggest fewer than 30 reasons why this might be are welcome to get in contact, as obviously I can't be bothered to go and see anyone about it. As far as me is concerned, it's about as far away from the important bits as it can be, and frankly is not a big deal. But I thought I'd mention it as I have nothing else to say.
Or at least I thought I did, but then this weekend I had another toe incident! Well, a close to toe incident. Would that it had been my right big toe, as it concerned stepping on a drawing pin ALL THE WAY IN. My children are not noted for having tidy bedrooms. In fact, Chateau L is not known for tidyness in any room, but these particular rooms are the worst. The word "pit" is often overused, but not here. Anyhow, I made the criminal mistake of walking into a child's bedroom in bare feet. A child's bedroom with a bulletin board. I then experienced the kind of pain reserved only for childbirth. Think stepping on Lego but far far worse. I reached down, gasping, and discovered a bloody drawing pin protruding from my foot. From my non-numb foot. From the foot where I can now say that the nerves are functioning one hundred percent. Arrrgh!!! I pulled it out, and an immense arc of blood spattered over the room. Not really, but there was a bit. Enough to worry the owner of the pit and of the drawing pin. Choice words emerged, and I hobbled to the bathroom to sort myself out and stem the flow, which by now was a steady drip.
On the plus side, some incredibly feverish room tidying of the sort rarely seen in Chateau L occurred almost instantaneously. Every cloud and all that. The rest of the day was spent resting, obviously, as major wounds like this do not take kindly to over-exertion. The following day some mild swelling, and as I type this a few days later I can't actually feel anything. Or not in my big toe anyway.
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