So, I lost my second toe's nail on my right foot and it's still black. Let me explain.
My hubby went on a trip to Madrid to see their pride. It was only fair that he see that pride when I was able to see Barcelona's and he missed out. We only had enough money that only one person could go. I forced him to go and experience Madrid. He said it wasn't the same without me, but he did have a fun time. He also made some connections that we could use in the future. It happened to be a Scottish man named Scott. Such a cruel joke from his parents.
Well, an hour after he left on his bus trip, I wounded myself. I visited the park beside the bus station and enjoyed the peace that early morning. Wonderful sculpture with colorful mosaics and it even had a descending spiral path that had trees planted in neat rows. I walked that spiral and thought, "Clever design. It reminds me of a stage."
I left that park to see the Arc de Triumf. It was a huge structure that reminded me of Paris' arc. It had angels and men at the top and little bat sculptures that I adored! (They're my favorite animal. I wish I could be a bat biologist, but I'm not the smartest guy to pass advanced biology.)
Then, I had this notion to take a bici. It is Barcelona's public bicycle...program? Transportation?....Eh, anyways...I took a bike. They're free for the first 30 minutes. It seemed a little heavier, the one I was given, but I thought that would keep me balanced. Little backstory, I'm not the most graceful. As a kid, I punched my heart with a bike handlebar and wrecked my bike in the yard. It hurt so much that I was afraid to get back onto a bike. I was 7 or 8. So, I was still learning to ride well at now age 23.
I rode the bici to the next park that I like to go to . It is right behind the Arc and was connected to the zoo at the end. I took pictures along the way and the sun rose on this unique building that I thought would make a great picture. I tried to turn around but almost wrecked. I caught myself as my bike fell. But I wasn't injured. Then I reached the spot I wanted to take the picture, but I leaned the bike against me. THAT'S when it fell onto my toe. The pedal hit my toe directly on top of it. It stung. It hurt. It was, on a 10 scale, a 6 or 7. (By the way, I was the stupid one for wearing sandals. Stupid.)
I hobbled over to the nearest bici station and parked it. I bled profusely! My sandal, eventually, became sticky with my blood. I limped a ways until I decided to get another bici to glide on. I didn't need to be on my foot or I would bleed more. I was a little light headed. But I reached the apartment where Aldo helped me clean the wound, disinfect it (which burned on a 8), and wrap it. Then I stayed on the couch for the rest of the day.
I didn't want to tell Miguel because I knew he would be worried and give me the "See what happens when I leave you alone" spiel. -.-; I told him the next day when he asked how I was. He was mad. He was worried. He was sad. But I encouraged him to try to have fun.
That day I stayed on the couch and bled through so many bandages. Aldo stayed home with me and talked with me. I needed so many things and I felt bad that I asked so much from him. He even went to a bakery to get me a treat!
By Sunday, I remembered that we have a weird chair that could roll around the flat. I used it and an umbrella as a cane. The umbrella said Amsterdam with marijuna leaves all over it. Hey, it's legal, but I'm not a smoker. Too smelly.
I looked pathetic.
When Miguel came home, he helped me.
After a week, I looked at the toe and tested to see if I could lift the nail. Surprisingly, I wasn't grossed out. It didn't hurt at all. Oh! I didn't describe the wound. My nail completely disconnected from my toe but was attached at the front. It looked like a U wound. Back to the nail lifting. I lifted it, my wound numb, and it came right off! My husband was grossed out.
After, I think 3 weeks, it still looks black. Miguel calls it my black toe. Good news, I am able to put shoes on and I don't have to worry about the streets infecting my toe.
So, basically, I'm accidental prone and an idiot. I learned to never wear a bike with sandals.
I hope Miguel can be a guest blogger and write about his experience of Madrid and the toe incident. He probably won't do it. He has enough on his plate than to write a blog post.
Pictures!
My hubby went on a trip to Madrid to see their pride. It was only fair that he see that pride when I was able to see Barcelona's and he missed out. We only had enough money that only one person could go. I forced him to go and experience Madrid. He said it wasn't the same without me, but he did have a fun time. He also made some connections that we could use in the future. It happened to be a Scottish man named Scott. Such a cruel joke from his parents.
Well, an hour after he left on his bus trip, I wounded myself. I visited the park beside the bus station and enjoyed the peace that early morning. Wonderful sculpture with colorful mosaics and it even had a descending spiral path that had trees planted in neat rows. I walked that spiral and thought, "Clever design. It reminds me of a stage."
I left that park to see the Arc de Triumf. It was a huge structure that reminded me of Paris' arc. It had angels and men at the top and little bat sculptures that I adored! (They're my favorite animal. I wish I could be a bat biologist, but I'm not the smartest guy to pass advanced biology.)
Then, I had this notion to take a bici. It is Barcelona's public bicycle...program? Transportation?....Eh, anyways...I took a bike. They're free for the first 30 minutes. It seemed a little heavier, the one I was given, but I thought that would keep me balanced. Little backstory, I'm not the most graceful. As a kid, I punched my heart with a bike handlebar and wrecked my bike in the yard. It hurt so much that I was afraid to get back onto a bike. I was 7 or 8. So, I was still learning to ride well at now age 23.
I rode the bici to the next park that I like to go to . It is right behind the Arc and was connected to the zoo at the end. I took pictures along the way and the sun rose on this unique building that I thought would make a great picture. I tried to turn around but almost wrecked. I caught myself as my bike fell. But I wasn't injured. Then I reached the spot I wanted to take the picture, but I leaned the bike against me. THAT'S when it fell onto my toe. The pedal hit my toe directly on top of it. It stung. It hurt. It was, on a 10 scale, a 6 or 7. (By the way, I was the stupid one for wearing sandals. Stupid.)
I hobbled over to the nearest bici station and parked it. I bled profusely! My sandal, eventually, became sticky with my blood. I limped a ways until I decided to get another bici to glide on. I didn't need to be on my foot or I would bleed more. I was a little light headed. But I reached the apartment where Aldo helped me clean the wound, disinfect it (which burned on a 8), and wrap it. Then I stayed on the couch for the rest of the day.
I didn't want to tell Miguel because I knew he would be worried and give me the "See what happens when I leave you alone" spiel. -.-; I told him the next day when he asked how I was. He was mad. He was worried. He was sad. But I encouraged him to try to have fun.
That day I stayed on the couch and bled through so many bandages. Aldo stayed home with me and talked with me. I needed so many things and I felt bad that I asked so much from him. He even went to a bakery to get me a treat!
By Sunday, I remembered that we have a weird chair that could roll around the flat. I used it and an umbrella as a cane. The umbrella said Amsterdam with marijuna leaves all over it. Hey, it's legal, but I'm not a smoker. Too smelly.
I looked pathetic.
When Miguel came home, he helped me.
After a week, I looked at the toe and tested to see if I could lift the nail. Surprisingly, I wasn't grossed out. It didn't hurt at all. Oh! I didn't describe the wound. My nail completely disconnected from my toe but was attached at the front. It looked like a U wound. Back to the nail lifting. I lifted it, my wound numb, and it came right off! My husband was grossed out.
After, I think 3 weeks, it still looks black. Miguel calls it my black toe. Good news, I am able to put shoes on and I don't have to worry about the streets infecting my toe.
So, basically, I'm accidental prone and an idiot. I learned to never wear a bike with sandals.
I hope Miguel can be a guest blogger and write about his experience of Madrid and the toe incident. He probably won't do it. He has enough on his plate than to write a blog post.
Pictures!