Somebody Call a Toe Truck

Life around my house can never be described as dull. Even the most mundane and personal daily routines have the potential to become full-on familial gatherings. Such was the case yesterday afternoon when a perspiration-drenched tennis player, a bathrobe and slipper wearing MD, a now-crying and no-longer-napping toddler, a freaked out, frazzled, and frustrated wife, and a bewildered ALS patient sitting naked (sorry) on a walker convened for an impromptu meeting to discuss, amongst other things, the big toe on my right foot.

Wow! How’s that for an attention getter? Are you in any way curious as to the sequence of events that led up to and culminated with the hasty assemblage of all local members of the SSSPNP (The Super Secret Society of People Named Picetti, of course). If you are, read on. If you’re not, read on anyway. It’s a funny story.

Laying in bed for up to twelve hours on the weekends is both a good thing and a bad thing for me. It’s good because my broken-ass body needs the rest but bad because with all that loafing around, I wake up hungry and depleted of energy. If my calculations are correct, asleep by midnight and awake by noon is twelve hours, plus another four hours since I last had something to eat and that gives me a grand total of sixteen hours without food.

That was the exact scenario when Fehmeen came to roust me from my slumber this past Sunday morning, err, afternoon: I was well rested but hungry. Recognizing the situation, Fehmeen spoonfed (aww) me applesauce before attempting to move me to the bathroom for a shower.

The journey to the bathroom and the actual shower itself proceeded without incident. However, it was my countless attempts to exit the tub/shower that caused a problem. One of the so called “perks” of my particular form of ALS is that my muscles tend to lock up when I am stressed, fatigued, hungry, cold, or nervous. Once those muscles are tight, it is very difficult for me to loosen them. It becomes an energy sapping mind game to try to get out of my head about the situation.

So, there I was, standing naked (sorry again) in the shower, legs locked, unable to move myself to get out of the tub. The detail oriented amongst you may be wondering why I’m not using a walk-in shower and to you, I respond with a “in five weeks when my handicap accessible bathroom remodel is completed” statement.

One call to John (my dad, who was now home from tennis and putzing around the attic), several confidence-building pep talks, and approximately ten minutes later and I was finally out of the shower.

From there, Fehmeen brushed my teeth and cleaned my eyes, ears, and nose. Once she applied some moisterizing lotion to my face, we were ready to head back down the hall to get me dressed.

We exited the bathroom easily enough, Fehmeen leading the way, walking backwards and holding my hands, as I lumbered forward. About three steps into it, my right leg didn’t lift as high I thought it did and my big toe got stuck on the carpet while my foot continued to move forward. Before we knew what was happening, my entire body weight was pressing down on my now unseen (because it was under my foot) big toe.

We crumpled to the ground in a heap as Fehmeen yelled, “FUDGE!!!”

But she didn’t say fudge.

My dad came running from the attic again, this time to help Fehmeen lift me and wheel me and my toe into the bedroom. My mom flew by us to console an hysterical and no longer napping Emma.

So, there we all were, just as I described in my first paragraph. There was some talk of taking me to Kaiser but that got shut down once my mom, Judy MD, determined that my toe wasn’t broken. In fact, it was feeling quite normal.

Besides, I didn’t feel like another trip to the ER. Like on Friday.

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