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My “Ingrown Toenail” ordeal

May 29, 2008 My thoughts on...

As I sit here writing this I have my left big toe soaking in a pan of insanely hot water, trying my best to get it to heal after “minor toenail surgery”. If you’re at all interested in how it all went down, read on. If not, I’ll “see” you back here next time with what will (hopefully) be a much lighter topic.

Well, since you’re still reading I suppose you’re interested, so here goes…

A few weeks ago I began to notice a slight discomfort in my left big toe – nothing major, just a little pain when I walked. As time went on this slight discomfort gradually escalated into a constant searing pain. Before long the toe had swelled up and turned red with pus oozing out around the nail. It was official – I had an ingrown toenail that had become infected.

Just another warning – this is going to get a bit graphic…

In typical fashion, I waited until I could wait no longer, then finally I agreed with Cheria that it was time to head for the VA Hospital emergency room to have it looked at. When we got there, we checked in and took a seat in the waiting room. Well, we waited, and we waited, and we waited some more, all the while watching one person after another get called back to see a doctor.

Now I fully understand that the purpose of triage is to see that the most serious afflictions are attended to first, but the pain in my toe was screaming SERIOUS! SERIOUS! SERIOUS! with every beat of my heart. Never mind all those folks suffering from the flu, pneumonia, broken limbs and such, I was in desperate need of medical attention for my big toe!

I finally heard them call my name, so I got up and hobbled back to the examination room, expecting a long and thorough…well, examination. Instead, the busy ER doctor simply took a quick glance at my toe, ordered a round of antibiotics for me, and then said “the antibiotics will knock out the infection, then we’ll schedule an appointment with podiatry and they’ll “take care of the nail”. If only I had known what he actually meant by “take care of the nail”!

I took the antibiotics as prescribed for 10 days, which appeared to knock out the infection. But a couple of days into the wait for my podiatry appointment the toe began to swell up and hurt again – apparently the infection hadn’t been completely eradicated. By the time my appointment rolled around the toe was in just about as bad a shape as it had been in before I began taking the medicine!

When the big day arrived, I had convinced myself that they would order another round of antibiotics and make sure the infection was completely cleared up before “taking care of the nail”. I walked into the office and made myself comfortable, thinking that it would be another quick look and order some medicine. I was wrong…

Instead, in walked a guy in a white outfit who looked so young that he made Doogie Howser look like he was about ready for retirement. Turns out he was a med student at nearby East Tennessee State University, and he would be “taking care of the nail” under the direction of a “real doctor”. Somehow I was beginning to feel a bit uneasy about this appointment, and it became even worse when Doogie, Jr. informed me that the nurse would be in shortly to have me “sign a consent form”. Consent to what, I thought? Little did I know…

Well, like an idiot, consent I did, after which Mr. Doctor Wannabe pulled out a needle about the diameter of a #2 pencil and filled it with some kind of liquid, saying “I’ll numb the toe, then take care of the nail”. But just about the time I was about to get a “numbing shot” from that steel pipe that vaguely resembled a syringe, in walked the distinguished looking, middle-age doctor who would be “directing the procedure”. What a relief – until he informed his youthful apprentice that no numbing would be required. After all, the “freezing spray” would keep the procedure from hurting just as much as the shot from that 105mm howitzer would. I suddenly began to feel a little light-headed and pale.

Well, what had to be had to be I supposed, so I dutifully took my place in the operating chair and offered my left foot to Doogie, Jr., who immediately picked up a tool that resembled a cross between needle-nose pliers and diagonal cutters. At the same time the “real doctor” picked up a can that looked a lot like a can of spray paint, then he began spraying my big toe until it was cold enough to cause another ice age. That’s when Jr. got to work “taking care of the nail”…

He pushed and prodded and clipped, then pushed and prodded and clipped some more, and with each push, prod and clip I could feel my pain level going up to a new record height. After what seemed like about a month of ever-increasing pain and discomfort ( it was actually about 90 seconds or so), the pushing, prodding and clipping ceased. I looked down, and there on a small towel sat the remains of about 1/4 of my big toenail.

As he was applying some antiseptic and a bandage to my wounded appendage, Doogie, Jr. peered up at me over his Harry Potter glasses and said “That wasn’t so bad was it?” Lucky for him, we were already in an emergency room. But somehow I managed to control my sudden urge to “take care of his neck”, and I meekly listened as he proceeded to instruct me on the how’s and why’s of caring for the wound, nervously glancing at Dr. Evil every few seconds as if seeking confirmation that what he was telling me was correct…

So now I find myself sitting here with my toe soaking in a solution of mystery water, relaying to you how all of this went down. Moral of the story: If anyone ever tells you they’re going to “take care of the nail”, calmly tell them to give you a hammer and a blowtorch and you’ll take care of it yourself! It’ll probably be less painful that way!