The Year in Review, Snapshot 1 in The eye of every storm

January 02:

I’m sitting on a strange chair with my foot propped up. A nurse removes the bandage from my large right toe. I don’t look. There’s so much blood.

The way my toenails regrew after the Appalachian Trail went unchecked, cutting deeply, on both sides, into the skin, creating an infection bordering on gange green. I just thought my feet hurt, but on the inside.

She removes two pegs, placed under the skin that folded over the toenail. The blood had dried around them, but they served their purpose, preventing the skin from touching the toenail bed that had just been removed while the antibiotic ointment soaked deep into the tissue. They did this so my toe wouldn’t have to be amputated.

The sound the pegs made while being removed was an audible rip. Like tearing paper, plain white, ruled, blue lined notebook paper.

My fiancee’ held my hand. She later said my eyes rolled back in my head.

At this moment, it was the most painful thing I’ve endured, physically. But there was more to come. So much more.

Last updated December 28, 2016