Starting last Wednesday, the top of my left foot began to swell up; turn a little red, and hurt like a bitch when I tried to move my toe upwards (toward me), or when you touched the inside of the foot just below the toe.  Thursday, it was worse.  Friday, it was worse.

But I already had a doctor’s appointment for Friday.  I go, the doctor is concerned and orders an x-ray.  But the radiologist isn’t concerned enough to review it until Sunday, and so the doctor hasn’t seen it yet.

No breaks, some tiny bone spurs but no other calcifications.

Meanwhile, the foot seems to have stabilized (i.e., not getting worse), but it’s swollen up to the point where the nerves are numbed, so there is a lot less pain. 

I’m already on an antibiotic – because of a small FUPA cyst.  (Isn’t that just what you wanted to hear on a Monday?  Fuck you, it’s my FUPA and I’ll talk about it if I want to.)  It seems I am turning into a cyst-y fat old lady – the joys of old age.

I worry about the foot because (a) I’m diabetic and I really don’t want to lose my foot; and (b) when I was a child I stepped on a big-ass thorn while fucking around barefoot at the “dredge cut” (which is what we called the nearby irrigation ditch, it got infected and because I was walking weird, I ended up having to wear butt-ugly orthopedic shoes all through elementary school. 

So, again, the question of the day, is now what?

And the update is, back to the doctor on Tuesday.