I hope this will be the last episode of the ongoing adventures of Toe Girl, aka my daughter Ilsa and her amazing, never-ending toe infection.
Our last week in Morocco, we went to for one last time to our new-and-improved Dr. Two. (not her real name, which I’ve forgotten. The second dr, the better one) She said the infection was “mastered,” which meant it wasn’t gone but wasn’t getting worse, and told us we’d need to see a doctor in America upon arrival. She stressed the importance of this, saying that if it got worse again and went into the bone, Ilsa could end up losing her toe.
This concerned Ilsa. She fretted and worried. “Would they give me a fake toe?” she asked. Donn had fun with this. Yes, a bionic toe, he told her. You’ll be a super-hero with your amazing power to kick the bad guys, and they’ll call you Toe Girl! And he started a cheer. “Toe Girl! Toe Girl!”
For days, whenever she was worried, we would call her Toe Girl, and she would giggle.
Our first full day in the US, we took her to a place called Zoom care. I am not making that up. Everything is sort of pastel purple, and all the staff, nurses and doctors are young and blonde and very, very nice. I wonder how they screen for that.
Our nurse-practitioner purses her lips at Ilsa’s toe and decides to scrape out the pus. Good job! Ilsa, however, does not take kindly to the idea. “Last time I had a couple of days to prepare myself,” she tells me in an anguished whisper. And apparently last time was more traumatic than we knew at the time. The surgeon didn’t give the novacaine (or whatever they use) enough time to throroughly “take” and she felt more than just pressure, although she was very brave. This time, although the NP waits and flicks her toe to make sure it’s numb, Ilsa is panicky.
We get through it. Donn lets her squeeze his hand bloodless and promises her a new book of her choice at Powells, which has a branch just down the street. This cheers her up no end. We regale the NP with stories of last time, how they wouldn’t let us go back into the room with Ilsa (her jaw drops open in disbelief), about the two dead babies in the waiting room (her jaw sags even wider).
Afterwards, when the NP has taken off the two sides of Ilsa’s nail, painted the entire toe brown, and wrapped it in really fun bright red tape, Ilsa is resigned. We set off with much better prescriptions than last time, when all she got was Tylenol. The nurse gives us the bucket they used to soak her foot, since they can’t resuse them, which mystifies us. It’s made of hard teal-coloured plastic–how could it not be reuseable? America is just so weird.
She gave us the name of a podiatrist, just in case, but said she’s about 55% sure this will take care of the problem altogether. I hope so. Toe Girl may be the cutest new superhero on the block, but I prefer just plain Ilsa.
11 comments
August 7, 2010 at 7:30 pm
Miss Footloose
I am sending good vibes for a speedy toe-healing. Infections in foreign countries can be worrisome, so it is good to be back home.
August 8, 2010 at 1:41 am
Dawn
Your description of the clinic cracked me up! And I love it that you can bribe your girl with books! Hope that treatment does the trick and hope you are settling into your new home and new/old country!
August 8, 2010 at 2:15 am
shannon
Oh OUCH! I cannot believe that she has that toe infection! I hope it FINALLY gets all cleared up. I also can’t believe you left Africa just as I am finally going to make there albeit not Morocco but still!
August 8, 2010 at 6:10 am
Jennifer (ponderosa)
What a brave girl! I hope she got a good long trip to Powells.
When I gave birth I got all kinds of swag because it couldn’t be reused. We are obsessed with germs in this country. And lawsuits.
And HEY! Welcome back to Oregon!
August 8, 2010 at 10:09 pm
LIB
The sterilizer they use is hot–so anything that could possibly melt (read anything plastic) can’t be reused. This should mean a change in practice to a stainless steel bucket. We are so slow to change (throw away) practices in this country!
In some Indian cultures, when the village got too deep in garbage, the tribe would move. Where are Americans going to move to?
Here’s hoping this is the last of the Toe Girl saga!
August 8, 2010 at 10:11 pm
Kris
From what I understand plastic cannot be re-sterilized without being melted down, which for a small clinic I would imagine would be more time consuming/expensive than it’s worth.
I’m not sure of this, but I THINK I remember Ken telling me that once and he would know better than I would given that he is the closest thing the family has to a medical expert. 🙂
August 8, 2010 at 11:12 pm
eileen
toe girl! Funny, but I hope the infection can be treated and cured properly How long has she had it for? I’m also very curious about the decision to move back to Portland, but I guess that will unravel in time (or not). Let’s hope the getting back of the stuff in PDX is easier than its move from Mauritania to Morroco!
How are the kids dealing with endless supplies of Dr. Pepper? And are you still making tagines? Is this your first time repatting? And will my curiousity ever be sated?
August 9, 2010 at 3:15 pm
jean
I swear my heart is in my throat. Poor Ilsa. She is one very brave girl. I hope that this is the last time she has to go through this!
August 10, 2010 at 12:17 am
gretchen from lifenut
What a trooper! I hope that her Toe Girl days are behind her for good.
What book did she choose? 🙂
August 12, 2010 at 1:58 am
Beck
Poor, poor poor girl. I hope this is IT, that her toe gets better, that the infection goes away FOREVER.
January 11, 2011 at 10:03 pm
Toe Girl, Revisited « Planet Nomad
[…] 13 months ago, the reinfection that wouldn’t go away, the Good Doctor and the Bad Doctor, the perky blonde who took care of it in August at the amusingly-named Zoom Care. I explained all this over the phone […]