This entry is written in memory of my left big toenail...
Before eulogies are written, we have to get back down memory lane. Destination: Samaria, Crete, August 2008.
Husband and I trekked the awesome gorges of Samaria for 6 hours. The national park, which is home to gorgeous gorges, is about 16-17 kilometers on foot and is mostly going downhill. I was wearing my immortal pair of Adidas, made for tennis and not for trekking. This alone made me curse myself twenty million times and still counting. What was I thinking?
Anyway, halfway through my toes started to hurt. Dang, eight more kilometers to go, not to mention that the 40C sun was pounding mercilessly on mere mortals like me, I was surely about to expire from the pain and heat. Less than a kilometer later, the pain accelerated. I was limping so bad but there was no choice other than to go on. Cut to the chase, my big toenails turned black a few days after the trek.
So I was in mourning for a month. The pain lessened then gradually abandoned me, and the nails held on. I said yay, I wouldn't lose them, what an accomplishment despite everything, but the color depressed me so for the first time in a very long time I painted my toenails bright pink. My world was pink for a while. Until Thursday.
My theory that toes are endangered parts of your body when around kids got confirmed when one of my kids at school accidentally kicked my left big toe. Right away I saw a million galaxies. The pain was so excruciating I couldn't speak. My boss, who was visiting the school that time, had to run for the first aid kit.
And then there it was, my big toenail yanked from the already battered, bruised skin. There was a gaping space between them and a strange looking liquidy thing started coming out. I almost passed out from the sight.
So these days I walk with a bad bad limp. My left toe is bandaged to save the nail from going kaput, but I have this feeling it's good as dead. I might as well start praying for it to rest in peace.
Maybe, just maybe, a new one will be resurrected soon.
