Smack, crack, crap!
 
I broke the fucking pinky toe on my left foot this morning.  I had just put in my contacts and was exiting the bathroom when wham!  I looked down to see my toe angled away from my foot, like the damn thing was trying to make an exit.  Remarkably, the pain wasn’t severe.  It was and still is a dull throbbing that pulsates discomfort. 
 
After showing my foot to my partner, he said, “Oh, you just stubbed your toe.  It’ll go back into place on its own.” 
 
What?  Does it have a fucking mind of its own?  Is it just stretching?  Having a quick look around? 
 
When I realized that my toe was likely broken and in need of medical attention, I thought, “Shit, I’m going to have to spend the entire day in the emergency room waiting for the doctor with homeless drunks, the desperately poor and morbidly obese.  No way there is a doctor’s office open at eight in the morning on a Sunday.” 

Dad drove me to this newly opened non-emergency clinic near the house.  I had no idea such a place existed.  Thank God!
 
My partner sent me off with a “You just stubbed your toe.  Quit making such a big deal.” 
 
The entire process of fixing my toe was surprisingly fast, easy and relatively painless.  Once again, however, I was reminded of the fact that I am indeed in South Texas. 
 
Where most medical personnel are somber and professional, the staff at this clinic were cheerful and emotional.  When I told the receptionist I thought I had broken my little toe, she frowned, shook her head, raised her eyebrows and said, “Ahhh.  I’m so sorry.  That must hurt.”  After first examining my foot, the nurse said, “Ouch!  That’s a real stub!”  The doctor, an Indian man and the only person not a Mexican or a woman employed at the clinic, then took one look and said, “Yep, that is…let’s get an x-ray.”  The x-ray tech took one look at my toe and said, “Whoa!  That’s broken.  Wow!  That must hurt.” 

Later when the doctor accidentally wrapped the nurse’s finger to my foot after straightening out my toe and fastening it to its neighbor, she yelped, “My finger!  My finger!”

Were these people professionals?  Yes.  Did these people act professionally?  No.  But if my toe heals properly, I don’t really care.  Besides, I liked their candor.  It was a refreshing change to the robotic. 

   

Advertisements