Shannon. We were talking about a million things, and somehow ended up talking about scars, because that's awesome to talk about while eating. I mentioned that I have a scar, a large one, on the bottom of my left foot (thankfully) and when I told her the story of how I came about that scar she said "you HAVE to blog about this!", so here goes...
When I was about 10 I was at a yacht club with my friend. We were playing in the scrap yard part of the club (so very safe) and were climbing a tree. After we were done playing in the tree I jumped down and landed squarely on a board with a rusty nail protruding. It went straight through my sweet turquoise Nikes and into my foot. I cried like a ten year old girl, Jill's dad took off my shoe and cleaned up the wound.
The next day my mom took me to my pediatrician and he adminstered a tetanus shot. Done. See you later kid.
Fast forward five years. I'm at the park, running around and I stepped on a tree root. Immediately I sensed that something was wrong. My mom took off my shoe (why can't I take off my own shoes?) and saw that the arch on my left foot was missing. My foot was Fred Flintstone like. So off to the doctor I went. Several doctors actually. Pediatrician, Podiatrist, Surgeon. It was uncovered that the nail I stepped on five years earlier was still in my foot. I know! Ew.
It was decided that I'd have surgery the week after my 15th birthday. Quick surgery, easy, no worries. Until they actually cut my foot open. The rusty nail (which was now in the shape of an arrowhead from five years of being walked on) was encased in a grape sized piece of scar tissue, and had attached itself to my foot arch. The surgery took a little over two hours and when they were finished I was left with a foot with no real muscle and a few less tendons, and a four inch scar in the shape of an S.
The good news was that they took the nail just in time. Had we waited a few more months I would have lost my foot.
I spent the summer on crutches and the day before 10th grade I was given clearance to walk on my foot. Except my leg muscles had atrophied, and I sort of forgot how to walk after 2 months of not walking. I may have fallen a time or two. It. Was. Awesome. Every 10th graders dream come true.
I was given some sweet orthotics that I refused to wear (sorry Mom) and have suffered from an achy left foot ever since. But I have a left foot. And that's what's important!
So I guess the moral of the story is, stay out of boat scrap yards? Wear your othotics? Don't judge 10th graders who may have an extra skinny left leg and have a tendency to trip? You pick.