Hole in My Foot!

So I worked maintenance today. I know what you are saying: “You just worked your ass off yesterday, why would you risk what remains just to work maintenance?” To that I answer: “No sub jobs. Plus, I enjoy it. Also, I am more of an ass than you realize, I have plenty to go around.” “But, don’t they work you to the bone?” you ask. “Yes, but I like the pain because I am so tough.”

Speaking of pain…I worked maintenance like I said, and mostly over at the elementary. I used the small mower to do the trim mowing (stuff the BIG mower could not get) and then changed to taking down some T-posts and some caution tape. After that I took three posts for bracing a new tree. I did not have the T-post driver, but when I got there, I noted that the ground was soft. I decided to push them down on my own. I used my hands and arms first, but that was not quite good enough. I looked at the post, which has a chevron shaped blade on the bottom. I have always assumed, being somewhat naïve about such things, that this chevron shaped do-hickey was of a similar use as those of a shovel, that is, you put your foot on it to help drive it down. Well, I proved that my supposition was amazingly and completely wrong. I put my left foot on the chevron and gave it an almighty push, with my arms and my foot. I heard and felt a rip/tear. Then, milliseconds later the neurons in my brain fired in the pattern they do for a pain in my left foot. It took a microsecond to process the signal. By the time that signal was decoded, my foot had already come off the chevron and there was little to do but wait. I decided that it did not hurt too badly, so I placed the other post…this time witho9ut using my foot. Then I stepped on it and it began to dawn on me that the pain was getting a little more than it should.

I immediately began to limp toward the office. The Nurse has her spot there. I sat down on her couch and asked for a bandage. She provided, after a little guffawing. I have a very good relationship with these people, and have teased some of them mercilessly. They take joy in getting back at me. I suppose I deserve it. Only three people were there, then, the eighth graders walked in. I was visible from the lobby…my foot hanging out. The eighth graders are part of a leadership class. They help teachers by doing copying and little favors and chores. Some are my ex-students. One walked into the nurse’s office and asked what happened. I did not elaborate, the girl said, “Great! Something to tease Mr. Huffman about!”

I asked the nurse if she had some Hydrogen Peroxide…she said no. I asked if she had anything to clean it up…alcohol, whatever! She said, “oh, yeah!” and she gave me some alcohol wipes. She said, this will sting. I said, “I am a man.” I thought to myself, better now than gangrene later. It did not sting as much as I expected. I then went home and used peroxide, alcohol, and Bactine. Then, after work, I used Neosporin and an ace bandage. It began to feel better once I got back to work after cleaning it at home the first time.

Funny thing about schools. If you tell one person something, or they see it, it does not take long for them to spread the news. I saw several people who seemed to know my foot was hurt. They were worried and looked hopeful. I thought it was interesting. I must be more popular than I thought.

Cora wanted to go to the cloth store…you know, where you buy material to make blankets and stuff…I went along and my foot hurt more and more. On the bright side, we got dinner at Round Table Pizza! Now, I have my feet up and am relaxing. I have a dental apt. tomorrow, which is a good thing, since part of one of the teeth I plan to have removed got loose tonight, yuck.

Well, tomorrow should be better tomorrow.