Help! My Left Foot Is Trying to Kill Me!

Let me begin this vicious tale of attempted revenge by saying that I have never done anything malicious to my left foot (or the right one either.)  I didn't force it to wear a too-tight shoe or one too high-heeled.  I didn't make it run down a beach covered in sea urchins nor across a desert covered in cactus!  Never! 

It begins in July ... when, after a 74 year peaceful interaction between us, I got up in the middle of the night to pee, cut it a little fine around the end of the bed and slammed my little toe and the bigger one next to it into the bedpost. 

It hurt, of course, but I was intent on other business and it would not have been the neighborly thing to let out prolonged screams of anguish at 3 a.m.

Turns out that both toes were broken.  The doctor amazed me when she referred to the "pinky toe" and commented, gesturing at the x-ray,  "You smashed it good!" 

This was after extensive x-rays (and a nice conversation with the tech, a man named Evgenky who is from Russia), supportive taping and, finally, an orthopedic shoe.  I thought then and still do today that was all a bit excessive when the most common treatment is to tape the two toes together and go about your business.  But it was nice meeting Evgenky whom I would see again rather shortly.  

Last Tuesday night, I again got up for the same reason.  But when I walked into the bathroom, something was different ...what on earth was that in the sink?

It was Fred, our eight month old kitten, sound asleep in the wash basin.  I was startled to say the least.  Between "What's that?" to "Oh, I see" took a nanosecond, but -- I was traveling at full speed and BAM!  I slammed my big toe head-on into the cabinet door.  OUCH!  Fred, terrified, took off at warp speed.  

Yes, it is broken, to.  The little toe isn't much of a factor in balance or perambulating, partly because it is tucked so tightly into its neighbor.  The Big Toe is another matter.  

And now Left Foot is being coddled in a half-cast or splint; extensive wrapping and the orthopedic shoe is snugly back on my foot.  I am firmly convinced that Left Foot is out to get me - you've only to look at the evidence above.  That's three toes out of five.  If Toes #2 and #3 join the fun (crippling Nina) my goose is cooked.  Or, rather, the orthopedic shoe is welded to my foot.  

Donations to" Beat Down!  Left Foot" are being readily accepted and my appreciation for the money, liquor and array of weapons.    Richie covets the baseball bat, but sorry, it was given to me.