Inanimate Objects Sometimes Attack Me

Last Saturday, a piece of plywood decided to attack me. It was all, "Ahhhhhh! I hate you mother &%#%!"  and stabbed my toe to death.

Seriously, though, it hurt so bad. 

There I was, minding my own business and BAM! What did I ever do to the wood? Okay... so I occasionally burn heat wood to a stage where it may or may not catch on fire for fun so I don't get hypothermia, but that's because I'm a superior race and it's just a stupid piece of wood, right?

Did I mention it hurt? Like, really, REALLY bad?!

Well, I'm no nurse so I figured, "Hey, it bled a little. All the bacteria should pretty much have been flushed out. I'll be fine"

I was NOT fine!

The next day, I couldn't walk. When I was changing Jack, I accidentally brushed it up against our bed-frame and then proceeded to roll around in agony for the next 10 minutes repeatedly yelling Mormon swears. 

Son of a biscuit! Mother Futher! Piece of shiz! Darn, Darn, Darn you metal frame! 

What can I say? I'm a wild woman when I get hurt and there's no telling what I'll say. Kids, cover your ears.

Then, I was late for church and as I was running up the stairs, I smashed it against one of the steps. My foot was all, "I don't deserve to heal!" and then didn't lift up the rest of the 1/4 an inch it would take to clear the step. Because church was starting soon, I resolved to only saying a couple of real swears then I could go back to being the pious woman and homemaker I am.

If there is anything I learned from having dry sockets when I got my wisdom teeth out, it's that when you get hurt, the pain should slowly go down, not increase. I also learned that clove oil from your strips of muslin packed in your jaw is not a good additive to your meals.

Again, I'm no nurse but I guess a wound shouldn't be hot and oozing pus. My cousin confirmed that it was indeed infected. I was faced with quite the conundrum.

See, we don't have insurance because we are still trying to find Tyler a job so a simple "going to the doctor and getting antibiotics" would be a $300+ trip and with us just paying off our $3,500 student loan, it wasn't like we had any money to spend. You guys, I haven't gone shopping in weeks, I tell you, weeks! It took all my strength to talk myself out of buying free glasses. Yes, you read right. All I had to pay was shipping and still I was all, Oh well darn, Jack's gotta eat...I better not.

So I did something that forced me to swallow all my pride. People, you haven't been in the lows of lows until you.....

call a free clinic to set up an appointment.

I was so nervous calling them. I was afraid they would say something like, "Well you're calling us from a phone so why don't you sell your phone and pay for medical services like everyone else, you lazy moocher." 

And then what would I do when I actually went IN for the appointment? I decided that I would have to put on my poorest looking clothes. Maybe I'd even rip them up a bit, smudge dirt on them, and not brush my hair for 3 days so I would look poor. That way, they would look upon me with pity and think, "Awww, there goes a poor woman. She so totally deserves to be here because life has been unkind to her. She probably hasn't gone shopping in, like, weeks." 

I was afraid that if I went in with decent looking clothes on, they might think, "Oh there goes another person cheating the system and putting all of the people who REALLY need these services out on the street to die. You murderer, you."

When I mustered up the strength to call, they told me that it takes 1-2 weeks to get an appointment. I was both relieved and worried about this. Maybe my toe would heal on its own?!

But judging from the swollen-ness, redness, and puss-ness of it all, the prospect was unlikely. So my fate was decided for me. I was going to have to turn to the streets and because we had no extra money to spend, I would most likely have to prostitute myself  to pay for the street drugs I needed. 

Luckily, my father-in-law doesn't take his antibiotics and had half of a bottle left. Also, lucky that my cousin is a pharmacist and told me correct dosage and how much pain killers my liver could take before shutting down.

Well, my toe started improving but it still stung a little and looked pretty nah-stay. It wasn't red anymore or leaking pus but the wound was black so being the curious bugger I am, I decided that I had to fix it.

That was when I pulled this out:

That little shiz was at least 1/2 inch long and wedged all snuggle inside of my toe-wound! What's even crazier is that when the board initially attacked me, I got a stick and a piece of leather to bite on while I carefully searched the super painful wound for any sign of a sliver and obviously didn't see this devil.

I feel so violated that it was living inside of me for so long. I suspect this is what it feels like to poop out a tapeworm.

The good news is that I am healed and I never had to tear up any of my clothes. Although I did have to go a few days without brushing my hair, but that was all by my freewill and choice.

Le healed toe sans mother ^%$#@ splinter. Why yes, I did have to contort my body to get this shot. Yes, I did give myself a Photoshop pedi and yes,  my leg in the background does need to be shaved but I make it a personal mission to only shave my legs once every 2 weeks, so I've still got time.