“Why can’t you just wear shoes?” an exasperated Dear Don asked. This question was in reaction to my statement that I broke another toe.

“Because I’m just not comfortable wearing shoes around the house.” I answered. ”So you would rather break a toe a week than to put on shoes?” he countered, now clearly losing his patience.

It was my fault I admit. I shouldn’t have even mentioned the incident but it was pretty obvious that something was wrong by my exaggerated limp. I knew he would fuss and scold me but really, shoes in the house, the yard? Come on!

Over the years I have broken every toe on both feet, every bone in my left foot and my ankle on my right foot. Not all these accidents have to do with not wearing shoes.

In fact the worst mishap was Dear Don’s Dear mother’s fault (may she rest in peace).

It was close to Christmas twenty odd years ago. At the time my Dad was in the hospital in critical condition. I was dreading a phone call that said, “you need to come home”

We had gone to bed and around 10:30 p.m. the phone rang. I jumped from the bed and rushed to the phone knowing that my Dad had died. As I answered I heard Dear Don’s Mom asking what size underwear he wore! The last thing I remember is leaning my head against the door frame in relief that it was not the phone call I was dreading.

I awoke on the floor with Dear Don calling my name repeatedly. It felt as though I were climbing out of a hole. When I awoke I tried to get up. My foot hurt, and as I looked to see what was causing the pain, I could see that every bone connecting the toes to the foot was broken. I guess I had fainted and fallen on my foot. I panicked when I couldn’t get up and I wouldn’t allow Dear Don to help me up. He finally called an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

They put a cast on my leg and scheduled me to see a surgeon the next day.

Long story short, I never saw the surgeon, I couldn’t stand the cast and took it off after only 3 or 4 weeks, long before my bones had healed. Of course they didn’t heal properly and I still have a lump across the top of my left foot that hurts when it rains.

I don’t know if we ever discussed the underwear incident with Dear Don’s Dear Mom. We really didn’t want her to know, to tell you the truth. Some things just defy explanation.

But back to the broken toe. I somehow got the storm door wedged in between my toes and as it swung back to its home it kinda’ swung my poor old toes with it.

“Crack,” I heard as I awaited the accompanying pain.

I stub my toes on door frames; I cut the ends off with the weedeater. Who does that? Should you wear flip-flops when you weedeat? I think not. Do I? Yes I do.

To end I tell you that my kids gave me a gift certificate for a pedicure for Mother’s Day. I probably should have gotten a gift certificate to a podiatrist instead. If my feet ever heal and look half way presentable I’ll take advantage of that gift. In the meantime did I tell you that last summer I dropped a brick on my big toe and lost my toenail? It’s just now started to grow back. I didn’t have any shoes on

You get the picture.

(Contact Sherry at swhcsc@wildblue.net)