The Great Toe Stories

My toes have had a hard life. Over the years I have broken or crushed several of them and once, while dancing in my kitchen, almost tore a small toe off my foot altogether. On Christmas, 1977, I managed to knock a gallon of cider from a high shelf and it landed square on my big toe. It was a heavy glass jug and fortunately didn't break as it broke my "great" toe, as the doctor called that appendage.

The following year, I fell and ripped most of the nail from my other big toe. My "great" toes still aren't looking so great. In fact neither are my other toes. In fact, I broke another toe last night. I had been up to let the dogs out (they are old and sometimes can't make it through the night without going out to relieve themselves), anyway, I didn't turn on the lights and hooked my right fourth toe on the armoire as I hurried back to bed.

I felt the thump and heard the snap and knew it was bone. Turning on the lights, I could see the toe pointing rakishly toward the outside of my foot. Still there was no pain, not until an instant later. Then the pain came, and it was fierce. I see a reason for lots of nerve endings in our hands, but I wonder why God put so many in our feet.

I thought of going to the E.R. but dumped the idea. Why spend the night in a waiting room and pay outlandish medical bills only to learn what I already knew and have the broken toe taped to its neighbor. I already have pain meds for my post trauma head aches, so I self treated.

By far the wildest great toe story is when I a kid. My brother and I were playing in a hay loft and I stuck my toe in a knot hole. It went in easily enough but I couldn't get it out. The knot hole was in a floor board near the eaves of the barn loft and Daddy was too big to get in there to saw the board and free my toe.

To make matters worse, I caused a lot of irritation trying to free my trapped "piggy" and it began to swell. Then someone had the great idea to use water as a lubricant and, well, you guessed it, the dry old wood absorbed the liquid putting an even greater squeeze on my great toe which was growing greater by the minute.

By now I was screaming in pain and fear of more pain, Mama was crying and Daddy was cussing. I'm not sure what Donnie was doing. Earlier, he had been laughing, but he has far too tender a heart to ever laugh at real pain, so I suspect he was silent.

Finally, Daddy attacked the problem from below and got that end of the board off then freed my toe with a hack saw which I was certain would also cut off my toe. God has been merciful and preserved all ten of my mangled toes, but I haven't made the job easy for Him.