My Decroded Toe

Joey and I were bemoaning the loss of our camera last night as we were examining my nasty toe that I "broke" when I was at my parents two weeks ago.

"That thing's disgusting." Joey moved my toe around to get the Full Affect.

"The toenail's getting super long and starting to poke me," I said, awkwardly holding my foot up by my face.

"Let me see!"

I showed him. "See? It was getting longish when I wounded myself, and that was over two weeks ago. It's almost long enough to be classified as a claw."

He wasn't convinced that it was yet at the claw-like stage, but it's on MY foot and I know when my toe's becoming a claw.

"Do you think I can clip it?" I asked, gingerly poking the nail to see if it caused excruciating pain.

"Yes!" Joey jumped off the bed and ran into the bathroom for the nail clippers. He had them poised and ready to go when he came dashing back into the room.

"Um, can I do it?" I asked, holding my hand out for the clippers.

"Sure..." He replied.

I attempted my first clip. It was pain free.

I attempted my second clip. Also pain free.

I attempted a third clip (the nail still seemed rather long) and realized that I was unable to do so.

The black area surrounding my toenail has apparently hardened. I cannot cut my nail any shorter.

"Joey! I think the end of my toe is malfunctioning!" I wailed, poking the hard, black area that took up a substantial portion of the end of my toe.

"You're OK, my fingernail did this too when I slammed it in the door." He comforted.

"But....but....my entire toenail and the area around it is black and hard!" I wailed. "I need to go to the doctor!"

"No you don't, you'll be OK. It just needs to grow out and fall off." He soothed.

"But when I slammed my finger in the car door when I was a kid I had to go to the doctor. They poked a hole in my fingernail and then the nail fell off..." I shuddered at the memory.

"Was the nail black?" Joey asked.

"I don't remember; I was five. I just know it hurt really bad."

"Oh."

We looked at my toe in its black, decroded grossness. I poked it a few more times for good measure, then sighed and flopped back on the bed.

"I'm calling the doctor tomorrow," I mumbled.