…but my toenail went away.
I went to Kings College Hospital Diabetic Foot Clinic today to begin the process of saving my toe. The podiatrist (a handsome guy named Tim) took a look at it, said, “You’re going to lose your toenail” and promptly pulled it out. I’m unsure whether this is permanent or temporary, but I don’t really care. Then he debrided the wound, dressed it, and sent me to X-Ray and Phlebotomy, then asked me to return. This started at 11 am and the entire process stretched until 2:30 pm. After my foot was photographed, and the vampires had their way with my arm (when I got in the number being served was 370 and my number was 422–I spent an hour waiting for blood to be drawn!), I returned to the Clinic.
Verdict: the infection has spread to the bone. Thus, besides doubling the amount of amoxicillin, flucoxicillin, and metronidazole I am taking, and giving it to me for two weeks instead of one, they are also sending a nurse around each day for two weeks to needle my butt with another intramuscular antibiotic and dress the foot each day. I return to Kings next Thursday.
The reason I don’t care if my toenail is gone is that I saw several elderly men there who had foot ulcers, and they were much worse than I was. However, at least one of them was still cheery enough to say that he was happy with the care he was receiving (he’d already lost his right big toe) and that the advances in diabetic treatment they’d made in the past few years meant that people like me and like his son (who was just diagnosed) will have better care and a better chance of keeping their limbs. He was so cheery that I myself felt better, and didn’t feel so sorry for myself. Oftentimes the certainty that you will receive care and that the doctors and nurses know what’s wrong with you and have a plan to treat it makes you feel better immediately.
So, the nurse will be coming over each day for 2 weeks to give me a butt injection (the first one happened at the hospital, and it wasn’t too painful, so maybe I’ll get through this and, hopefully, my foot and toe will be saved. Hoping for continued good wishes and prayers from those so inclined.
Good luck! It definitely sounds like everyone is on top of things and taking good care of you.
My father’s second wife was born without toenails and would sometimes paint polish on her skin (or so I hear — I didn’t actually see her bare feet myself).
Best wishes!