is if you’re going to step on a sharp metal object, do so in your bare feet.
Yup, that’s what I did Saturday while moving some furniture to make room for a portable AC; as I was shifting a shelf unit into place, my foot managed to find a twisted carpet staple, which gave me a piercing I didn’t ask for. As you might have guessed, my people have magnetic feet able to find and step on the most innocuous of things.
After cleaning and dressing the wound (and cleaning up the big blood drop on the bathroom floor), I grabbed a flashlight to search for the offending item (the overhead alone didn’t reveal the perp), which I inspected and threw away.
The extent of Luke’s concern was to come in, sniff at my foot and curl into a ball at the end of the bed. The snoring kinda pissed me off.
Since there was no rust on the staple, my first thought was to avoid a tetanus shot, but after talking to my mom the next day, I decided to go ahead and call my doc. (People, if it’s been more than five years, get the shot … it won’t hurt, and it might help.) Besides, Mom’s had chunks of two toes amputated due to infection, so better safe than sorry.
After some chatting and giggling (I found out my nickname at her office is Giggle Girl … could be worse! :-D), my doc told me that had I been wearing tennis shoes, another infection besides tetanus could be a concern: pseudomonas bacteria in the foam soles of tennis shoes, which can be carried into a puncture wound by whatever caused the puncture.
An unchecked infection could cause loss of the foot, and I’m quite attached to my duck feet, thankyouverymuch. If your doctor doesn’t ask what you were wearing (on your feet) when it happened, run … uh … or limp out and find someone else.
So yeah, I’m keeping an eye on my foot for signs of infection, but I’m thanking the Lord I was barefoot.
Of course, I’m an Arkie, and we’re apparently supposed to be barefoot. Guess this is one time to embrace the stereotype …