One Foot, Two Foot, Red Foot, Black-and-Blue Foot

I have happy feet. I broke down and bought new socks. And not just any new socks. They're actually a women's hiking socks, with padding in special places and a deep heel cup and some other nifty engineering. All of a sudden, all my shoes fit better.

Roxann, on the other hand, does not have happy feet. She reported kicking a wall this morning at home and having her toe bent out at a really funny angle. She bent it back, came in to work, and then expected us not to argue that she ought to have it x-rayed. I mean, come on--if you fracture a toe, that's one thing. You tape it to the toe next to it. If you bend it out at some funny angle, though, there's no guarantee the joint is in right or that any break is properly aligned when you put it back.

After about an hour or arguing, Mark and I got her to go in to urgent care. They did indeed have her x-rayed. They were, in fact, worried that she'd broken something in the knuckles of the foot where the toe attaches, instead of or in addition to the toe, itself. And she hadn't even planned to go in to the doctor. Because it was just her little toe.

And sure enough, when the results were in, they found a confirmed break and want to cast it. Break of what? They didn't say, yet, but they're sending her to a specialist (she wasn't sure if it was an orthopoedist or a podietrist. An orthopoedic podietrst, maybe?), which pretty well tells us it's up into the joint or the foot itself. She's scheduled for tomorrow morning--the nurse told her not to run any marathons between now and then. I've promised to bring her a pair of crutches (I have so many spares, it's not even funny). If she doesn't need them, I can always take them home.

Mark and I are trying not to say "I told you so." Or, at least, I am. I guess I don't know how hard Mark is trying, based on his failure rate.