Nail-mageddon

For me, it started when she scampered off to the bathroom. But I guess it went back past there. It might have begun during yoga, as the teacher used her creepily soothing voice to murmer impossible contortions for us to try, and the "calming stillness" was broken by the labored gasping of people doing things the body was never meant to do--but maybe not. It might have been even earlier, just as I labeled the "J. Jones" to the sketch I'd finished in Specialty Panels, just before the Orthopedic Surgeon came down to speak. Maybe then was the first time that I saw her rub the toe of one foot against the other--but if that was the beginning, I don't remember. I just remember the bathroom part.

Steph and I were sitting in Courtney's living room, chatting it up after a long day of classes, wards, and exercise. Steph said her toenail was doing funky things and she wanted to take the nail polish off--at least, that's what I think she said. When my mind hears things pertaining to personal prettifying, it shorts out.

The next thing we know, there's a wail from the bathroom. It went a little something like this.

"WwwwwaaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHHHMMMMMMMYYYYYYY TOE IS COMING OFF!"

Well, whaddaya gonna do when you hear something like that? Of course, I was fairly sure her toe was not actually going to plink off onto the floor, but it sounded interesting. So I scampered on after Courtney to check it out. Of course, we rounded the corner to find her dabbing at her foot with this tissue stained bright red--but that was just nail polish. Only a little heart-attack worthy. But even if it had been bleeding out like a ruptured anemic femoral artery, we're going to be doctors someday. We know just what to do.

(I can hear Brian Reagan in the background--"Somebody get some leaves!")

But, her toenail was really coming off. And she's freaking out, because apparently (and I didn't know this, but maybe it's a common female sentiment?) her toes were her pride and joy. And she does have pretty nails. But now the big toenail was half off, and she's tugging at it and her eyes are huge and she's hyperventiliating just a little, inside. Courtney and I sit down on the floor and settle in for a good time, and we're telling her all sorts of things and I'm lecturing on how toenails work because that's all I've seen my whole life, in dad's office, and she doesn't care because life as she knows it is ending. It was so funny.

She ended up taking our advice and not ripping the whole thing off, but began cutting off the parts that would come. So now she has this...island of nail in the middle of her toe, just connected on one side. And the look on her face--I generally consider myself a compassionate person, but I was howling, because is was so dang funny. I was trying to be serious, in between assuring her that it would indeed grow back before medical school graduation and that, yes, somebody would love her even without her toenail; but I'm afraid I didn't succeed. Because she always says that you can't have pedicures because people die of the fungal infections they get, and this happened because she had some place cut her nails, and now all of her worst fears are vindicated. And she doesn't want to die.

This story was so much funnier in person. I'm sorry I can't adequately translate. I'm just very tired, and it's been a very long day. Suffice to say she wrapped it up with this massive bandaid that could have plugged a leak in a tire, and we're going to RiteAid tomorrow to lay in a year-long supply so she can keep it covered until it grows back.

Goodnight.

*Still laughing.*