It was actually warm and sunny this past Sunday, so I ended up walking around barefoot outside as I went down to sit by the lake with a book and a drink. Well, several drinks. Sunday evening, a spot on the ball of my left pinkie toe feels a little tender. No big deal–I’ve stepped on a few pebbles, so it’s hardly surprising. Bummer to have an ouchie, though.
Monday morning, it hurts worse. I inspect my foot and discover that I actually have a small splinter embedded there. Get out the tweezers etc. and start poking around, but it ain’t coming out. Realize that I’m now late to work, so I grab the splinter one last time and yank. The splinter stays put, but I manage to rip a small patch of skin off the sole of my foot. Great–now I have a splinter and a patch of missing skin. Ow.
It now hurts to put weight on the outside of my foot, so I spend Monday walking around just kinda putting my weight on my heel and keeping the outside front of my foot lifted. This, of course, exercises muscles that aren’t used to that much work. So by Monday night, I have a splinter, a patch of missing skin, and a bad muscle cramp. And, of course, the splinter still won’t come out.
Today, I have to try walking more on the inside of my foot (think of super-duper overpronation). This works for a while, but only a while. So by tonight, I end up with a splinter, a patch of missing skin, a bad muscle cramp, and a collapsing arch. And, of course, the damn splinter still won’t come out.
Five bucks sez I’m on crutches by the end of the week. With a splinter.
At the rate you’re going, you could end up in a full body cast by week’s end. With a splinter. Ouch.
Have you tried soaking your foot in hot, hot water (with epsom salts for best results)? Are you putting an antibiotic cream on it?
If it’s not better soon, get to a doctor. I’ve mentioned this before, but back in college I stepped on the tippy point of a thorn of some sort. Couldn’t get it out, thanks to it being in my heel juuust out of reach. Darned thing stayed in there and formed a callus around the thorn, which felt just like a sharp rock embedded in my heel.
Finally I broke down, after months of limping around campus like an idiot, and had to have it cut out. Surgery on your foot hurts. The shot to numb the area, oog, I don’t even want to think about it. Just take my word on it; it’s much better to get it fixed now.
Epsom salts? Antibiotic cream? Pfah! Epsom salts and antibiotic cream are for weaklings! (Okay, more accurately they’re for people who actually think ahead about such matters.)
Hot water? Pfah! Hot water is for…ummm…people who aren’t too lazy to draw a footbath.
Well, that’s just fine, young man. You just Pfah yourself right into a full-blown case of blood poisoning. Then we’ll see who’s going Pfah, won’t we? It’s always fun until somebody loses a foot. Now, go to your room.
Pfah me, will you. Damned kids, think they’re so smart.
And don’t think you’re taking that beer into your room, either, Mr. Smarty Pants.
Wish someone would send me to my room. I want to go to my room.
Congrats! My splinter rule is never remove unless poking out. Mine always eventually work themselves out or dissolve. Yes, I’ll suffer weeks with a splinter, no way will I let anyone jab at my feet with a needle (ugh or my hands/fingers, even worse). owie.