My foot is killing me. It’s been hurting for like a week. I chalked it up to wearing too-high, pinchy shoes that I squeeze into, despite the inevitable wobbly pain I’ll be in later. I simply don’t care though. I love the high shoes. I love that they put me at a towering 5’5” or even 5’6” if I’m lucky.
Naturally, I thought my foot was staging an uprising against the masochism in which I force it to live. So, when I felt the pinchy stab under my right foot, I simply ignored it. Just like I would a screaming toddler. Ignore it, and it’ll stop whining and leave me alone. But, it’s still hurting. And okay, so YES I’m currently wearing 4-inch wedged heels that are ADORABLE, and it’s probably not exactly “helping” the situation. But what am I supposed to do? NOT wear heels? Pshaw. Not a chance.
Finally, on Saturday afternoon, I bent down and decided to take a peek at the mysterious pain. (Why did I not take a peek right after it started hurting? I don’t know. Why does anyone not do anything?) Right there, at the exact spot of the pulsing pain, was a sliver. Deeeeeeeep in my foot. It’s almost like WALKING on it made it worse somehow. I don’t know; I’m not a doctor.
So after I spent Saturday night in 5 1/2-inch patent leather stilettos for a party (yes, despite the horrible throbbing pain), I think my injured foot finally had had enough. I went to my parent’s house on Sunday and I hesitantly mentioned the problem to my dad. I started with, “So, my foot has really been hurting for about a week now.” And he interjected with “Well, your shoes…” and before he could finish I said, “It’s NOT the shoes. I have a sliver way deep I think, and I can’t get it out.”
Unlike me, my dad IS a doctor. And he’s a pretty cool one, too. At a high school football game, Claire got hit in the head with a huge wooden toy airplane, and he stitched her up right there – WITH HER OWN HAIR. Baller! Anyway, he’s much less creative when it comes to family care, though. There are exactly 3 remedies for anything that ails you, according to my dad: Tylenol, icing the pain, and, as in the case of my foot, soaking it. Anything that requires more than that is, well, nothing requires more than that.
The most frustrating thing about it all is that He’s right. I’ve NEVER been to a doctor for anything other than a check-up. When I get the flu, I take some Tylenol, put some ice on my forehead or a heating pad on my stomach, and get through it. That exact same treatment also works for: cramps, broken toe, back pain, sprained ankle, headaches, hangovers, sliver-in-foot, and probably gingivitis for all anyone knows. The point is: I’m going to go ahead and trust my dad on this one. So I spent the night “soaking” my foot in the hopes that the sliver shimmies its way out of my achin’ foot. There was no shimmying. None. Impatient, I performed my own version of surgery, despite my dad's warning that "the treatment should not be worse than the injury". People? It didn't go very well.
Well, what do I do now? Hopefully I didn't give myself tetanus or something. I'm pretty sure I'm not up to date on that shot, and I don't know that applying a cold compress will help with that kind of thing.