Toe Troubles and Insults!!

On the Wednesday before Christmas, I dropped "the boy" off at the airport and then headed to MOA for some last minute shopping. As I was walking around the mall I noticed that my left, big toe started to smart. I had an idea why. A couple weeks prior I was a bit over zealous with the clippers while giving myself a manicure. I may have cut away more skin and flesh than nail. It bled a little, I cleaned it out with alcohol and thought nothing more of it. That is until it started to hurt. It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that I took off my sock and looked at my toe.

This is what I found...

It was just a little swollen to the right of the nail and just a tad bit red. (And yeah, I realize that my toe looks a bit like a thumb...hahaha...keep the jokes to your self...I have BEAUTIFUL feet)

After consulting with Dr. Locklear ("Girl you better go to the doctor and get that looked at. For someone so vain about their feet you're gonna mess around and not a have toe this summer. That will not be cute in sandals."), I decided that I would ignore her warning and self medicate. Thanks to the "all knowledge providing about every subject matter ever" internet, I learned that after a good soaking in salt water, my big toe would be as good as new. So that evening I submerged the toe in a salty water for a good 15 minutes. Then to make it work even better I poured a tablespoon of salt directly on my toe and wrapped it in the wet paper towel. The brining solution placed directly on the source of my pain had to be even better, than just soaking it, right? Finally it was off to bed, not with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, but rather visions healthy toes!

Well, just imagine my surprise when I work "with a start" because the pain from my toe almost stopped my heart. The next morning brought no relief and the pain seemed to be worse. Still ignoring Heather Locklear's warnings I walked around sockless and kept a steady dose of ibuprofen on hand. Sure, I could barely stand on it and by Friday it was a bit more swollen and a little bit more red (okay alot more swollen and a lot more red), but it would be okay after another brine soaking. Right? With thoughts of an empty space where my big toe should be, I was finally forced to throw in the towel and call the doctor. I think it was the third time stubbing it that sent me over the edge. The pain was now so immense that I could barely walk. So off to Urgent Care I limped. Besides I didn't think that they had come up with prosthetic toes yet...

My office visit was fairly uneventful. The physician's assistant couldn't touch my toe because of the swelling and pain so she prescribed anti-biotics and ibuprofen and sent me on my way. It was as I was limping out into the waiting area that it struck me that I had just been insulted not once but 3 times. WTH!

My conversation with the physicians assistant went something like this...

I knew right away when the young woman entered that she was African. That was not an issue for me but is relevant to the story...read on...

PA "How do you pronounce your name?"

ME "It's Jacquette, but I go by Jacke"

PA "Oh you guys and your names. You all come up with the most different names. LaTeshia, Shaneka." Chuckle. Chuckle.

Huh, wait a minute. Is she talking about my name? Lady, my name is French and not the least bit ghetto. (http://www.behindthename.com/name/jacquette) But I let it slide.

Next we actually discussed my reason for being there, my toe and she actually paid me a compliment.

PA "You don't look 38 at all. You know what they say about black people. We age very well."

ME "Thanks."

PA "So do you have kids."

ME "Yes, a son."

PA "Nice. How old is he?"

ME "He just turned eighteen."

With that, her nose shot up in the air and while typing her consultation notes on the computer, she says, "Oh you guys start having babies so early here. I'm 35 and I just got married. I am 9 weeks pregnant with my first."

Hold up! I know this heifer did not diss me again in less then 5 minutes. And is she seriously calling me some promiscuous HO? By now I am giving her the serious side eye and preparing to limp my ass right on outta there, but not before she can get in one last dig.

As I bent over to put on my sock,

"Is that a sew-in?"

I turned my head just enough to really give her a "lady you have gone too far look" and said "What?"

PA "Is that a sew in. Your hair."

Let's recap...This lady has called my name ghetto, called me a HO and now she was trying to say that my hair looked like a wig. I did not need all this aggravation.

ME "NO. This is all my hair!" (insert much attitude, neck and eye rolling).

UGH! Some people!