BROKEN TOE

I broke my big toe. It’s not an interesting story, but it happened while entertaining my niece on our family holiday. I raced her around a mini Land Rover track, and, not being in a mini Land Rover, or in fact, being an actual mini Land Rover, my feet got tangled up on a ramp, and over I went.

It’s weird falling over. It doesn’t happen very often as a grown-up, so when it does, it feels a bit nostalgic. For one half of one second, the world is upside down, the ground is where the sky was, and then something suddenly hurts. Things start to make sense again and you sort of wish they didn’t. That’s nostalgia for you. And it’s also falling over.

“We get all sorts,” said Barbara the x-ray operator, waiting for my details to pop up on her computer. “A lot of hands - mostly young men punching something.”

I felt my eyes widen. She went on.

“Yes. I always know it’s a young male when it’s a hand,” she said. “Brick wall, car door, concrete…”

I held a shoe in one-hand and a sock in the other. My bare foot with its black toe was resting on the cold floor of the x-ray room. I think Barbara was reassuring me that I’m not an angry young man who was silly enough to let his pent-up fury get the better of him. Fair enough. My injury felt just as unnecessary though - I mean, someone should have roped off the mini Land Rover course. And I should have been more careful tearing round it.

The thing is, it’s not just the toe - it’s the impact on everybody else! I desperately didn’t want the broken toe to swell up and swallow everyone’s holiday, but there I was, basically unable to walk. Shuddering with pain in the corner of the tent when the dog trod on me, almost unable not to draw attention, or drive the fun out of our few days together.

The pain’s gone down a bit now. I had moments when it felt like a thousand volts had shot through my foot, or waves of agony were pounding through my nervous system. If I’m resting now, it just tingles, and, if I’m walking without the crutches and forget to use my heel instead of my toes, it stings, but every moment brings a little more healing; a bit more distance between the now and the split second of injury on the dirt track.

They say it’ll take a few weeks to get me back to normal. I guess these things happen; I guess lots of things happen - moments when the world flips upside down, confusion switches sky for ground and trees for earth, and everything hurts. The trick is to do the next bit well. That’ll be good learning for me.