I do not like dealing with my toenails. At all.
When I was a little girl, my Mama had to hold me down to let them cut my toenails.
It was bad. Really.
The issue is compounded by the fact that with the scoliosis and spinal fusion, I actually can’t get to my toes super well at all. I can cut my own toenails as an adult, but it is not the easiest thing in the world.
So when my big left toenail became fungal three years ago, I was filled with a sort of existential dread.
And immediately, within the month, I went to a podiatrist, who promptly told me it didn’t look like a typical fungus and that I should come back in a year if it was giving me trouble.
Three years later, it had mostly stopped growing the entirety of those three years and it was clear it was indeed a fungal infection.
So last September, I faced it and went to the podiatrist, sure they would remove it that very day.
Turns out podiatrist offices don’t work that way.
She gave me some ketoconazole and told me to use it and Vicks and she didn’t know how long it would take to clear up; when I mentioned removal she said it was an option.
Then in December when I mentioned the whole episode to my dermatologist at my appointment there, she said that the ketoconazole was going to do nothing, and gave me some weird enamel paint stuff that made my nail hard and told me to file it weekly.
That stuff took away permanently any hope of actually cutting my toenails, and actually, for some reason the toenail started growing into the base of my toenail bed, backwards.
And the backwards growth was what promptly sent me back to the podiatrist last week, begging to have the whole thing just taken off permanently.
Which is no small thing, because of that whole fear of people messing with my toenails.
And in fact, the fear is so bad that one of my greatest all-time primal fears ever has ever been someone prying off my toenails.
So yesterday, as I sat just after having my left big toe injected with local anesthetic to deaden it, I posted this on Facebook:
“So one of my most primal fears is having my toenails, specifically my big toenails, pried off. No joke, in the midst of the only time I had to be restrained due to psychiatric reasons, the delusion of the day was that they were restraining me to pry my big toenails off.
So what am I sitting in the podiatrist’s chair waiting on? To have my left big toenail removed, permanently.
It’s been fungal for at least 3 years but it has given me trouble with ingrown issues since I was a child.
I am ecastatic it will be gone permanently, and not worried about the cosmetics, and I guess technically today is an achievement and exercise in facing one of my worst fears, all by myself since Jared is at work.
And the dr says I made it through the worst part, which was the deadening injections.
And I can go shopping for stuff for the weekend’s weather, too.
I don’t normally keep my phone with me during Dr appts but she said it was fine for distracting myself.”
The doctor said afterward, with my having told her about the fear, and told her nurse about the fear, beforehand, that she’d made sure she deadened it well and made sure to let it sit long enough to for sure be effective because she really didn’t want to have to come back in and poke me with a needle again after having hurt me with the procedure.
But sure enough, the procedure itself took like 5 minutes, maybe 10 max, and it was not bad at all. I took a photo I will spare the world after, in fact– you know, with photography being my coping mechanism for everything and all– of the exposed toe bed before it got wrapped up in the bandage post procedure. I’d taken a photo of it before the procedure started, too, for posterity.
And pretty much the rest of my whole morning and yesterday during the day was set up for success, because I’d done the very thing I was afraid of most as a child, probably. And that’s saying something considering they cut me open on front and back and messed with my innards in a very dramatic fashion for that scoliosis surgery.



