Maybe it’s just me, but I didn’t think broken toes were all that big of a deal. Tim broke two of my toes and my mom didn’t even tell me, ’cause she knew I’d freak out. I realized, years later, that they weren’t bending and thought, “You know… I think I broke these.” Paige is always talking about how she breaks her pinkies. She tapes ’em and keeps going.
That’s why I didn’t think anything of coming to work today when last night I broke my pinkie toe. I mean, it’s the least important toe, right? It’s really like half a toe. And if it’s missing the toenail, which mine is now, it doesn’t even look all that much like a toe.
I had almost forgotten it was broken–until I stepped on my foot incorrectly. It reminded me; I swore. Quietly.
Coworker: “What’s wrong?”
Teri: “I broke my toe.”
Coworker: “Just now?”
Teri: “Last night. I just bumped it.”
Coworker: “The doctor said you could come to work today with a broken toe?”
Teri: “I didn’t go to a doctor.”
Coworker: “You broke your toe and you didn’t go to the doctor?!”
Teri: “It’s a pinkie toe–what are they going to do?”
Coworker: “Well, the doctor can at least wrap it up.”
Teri: “I did that. I found some extra long band-aids in the first aide box this morning.”
Coworker: “How do you know for sure it’s broken?”
Teri: “Oh, I know. I’ve had broken toes before.”
Coworker: “Do you see a doctor for those?”
Coworker: “‘I’m Dr. Teri! I break bones all the time and fix them myself!’ Pretty soon all your toes will be sticking out at odd angles.”
Teri: “That’s gross. And not at all accurate.”
Maybe I’m weird, but I don’t see the point of going to the doctor for something I can do myself. Lasering a tear in my retina, or CAT scans I’ll leave to them–no problem. Things like fevers or pinkie toes I can take care of myself, thank you very much.