If your pinky spells “L,” you ARE a BIG loser…

So, this happened to me several months ago, but I decided to share it here because it was such a bizarre experience.

The facts up front—I am a bonafide clutz. It’s a fact. Yes, I played several different sports in high school and managed to be at least average at most of them. That did not help me. I took ballet for several years. Nope, still a clutz-o-rama. This has not changed with age, in fact it seems to be getting worse. I am convinced that, when my last day on the earth is here, my final words will be something along the lines of “Ooooooh…sh@#$t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

So, it is at the point where my husband just finds it humorous when I stub my toe, run into furniture, spill a big glass of tea, etc. These things happen to me almost daily…and that’s no exaggeration. I would laugh too, if I were him.

It was such a night about a month ago…I walked over to the couch to sit down, and rammed my pinky toe into the hidden leg in the middle of the couch (WHY DO they put that there anyway?) Normally, the hubs might chuckle and light-heartedly ask if I was OK. Well, this was the crack heard ‘round the world…or at least ‘round the MomCat home. He immediately jumped up and ran to me to inspect my toe.

When I looked down, I was amazed to find my pinky toe was now making a backwards capital letter “L” with the toe next to it. Yes, the little toe was perpendicular to the rest of my toes at a direct right angle. I screamed and alternated between reeling from the extreme pain I felt and feeling total awe at how disgusting my foot looked.

The dilemma now…do we wake up our two sleeping kids to drive me to the ER? Do I try to live with the L-shaped toe until morning under very extreme pain? Do I force it back straight? (Incidentally, I tried that and, as self-depricating as I can be, I still couldn’t inflict that kind of serious torture on myself.)

I opted for jumping in the car and driving myself there alone, before the shock of my freak toe really sunk in. I got to the ER and luckily got right in with the very reluctant admitting nurse. This guy was not happy to be at work that night. He took one look at my toe and before he asked any questions, made a phone call. From my end I heard:

“Yeah, I have a lady here who has broken her toe on her couch.”
“Um, hum…well, I know that, but this toe is very disfigured.”
“Sigh.…well, yeah, I know this isn’t a natural deformity, but…. I just thought you guys might want to handle it. “

So, I’m an unnaturally deformed patient then? Nice.

Later, this same classy guy preceded to SPRINT across the waiting area while showing me to my room, not offering a hand or help of any kind. I was left to hobble across the waiting room and watch the dropped jaws and looks of disgust that came across the faces of those waiting when they looked down to see why I was hopping spastically.

Long story longer, I chose a quick pop back in place over taking a pain shot beforehand. Let's just put it this way--doctors from down the hall stuck their head in to see if I was OK after hearing my screams.

I got home, and the next day my husband confided in me that the only thing he could think of when he saw the toe was the scene from Stephen King’s “Misery” where Kathy Bates does her work on her captive’s hands.

And, a few days later, I hit another toe on the same damn couch leg…