Stupid Sewing needle of death

Yesterday, I was at Mum's visiting and doing laundry as usual. Since I've lived with Bryan, I have a tendency to remove my shoes while at the apartment or the house. Before, I used to just leave my shoes on all day from the time I put them on to whatever time I had a shower.

Well I might start going back to my old habits.....well at least when I'm over at Mum's.

Why?
Why?

I'll tell you why....

....stupid sewing needle hiding in mom's carpet deciding to make me it's victim. Camoflauged in beige carpet stalking it's prey like a serial killer obessed waiting for the right moment to strike.

I don't even know how it got there. All I know is I was walking to the computer room from my usual nook. I like to sit on the carpet against the sectional where theres a nice little right angle going. Mum called me to see a status on someones facebook account and *boom* pain radiates throughout the ball of my foot. I look down thinking, what the fuck just happened and that's when I see it. A fucking sewing needle lodged in the ball of my foot with maroon thread.

It must have been laying there for months and only came to surface when Mum was vaccumming and getting ready for my Madrina to come into town. So now, not only did I get some nasty ass bug that tried to kill me, but also a potential foot can be cut off due to this sewing needle.

I've been limping for the past two days I'm in so much pain. Bryan ended up making me soak my whole foot in a hydro solution just to pull out all the bacteria. It was pretty nasty. Then he put triple antibiotic on the area with a bandage.

I'm so lucky to have a man that goes overboard on doctoring oneself.

But still...I mean, my foot could have potentially rotted off. It's every diabetics worst nightmare. The thought of going blind, I can sort of deal with, but having to have an apendage lobbed off...not so much. I mean this is how it starts. A freaking sewing needle aims at a leg or a foot or a hand. You're in pain for a few days, but then some crazy infection starts breeding inside the wound because lord knows what strain of evil is on the needle. After awhile you forget about the pain because you build immunity to it and that's when the strain attacks. Gangrene sets in and you don't even know it's there until you visit your Endo two months later. By this time, it's too late.

"I'm sorry, but your foot is going to have to go."

How do you react to such news? Do you plead and beg for an alternative all the while knowing that there is no alternative because it wasn't caught in time? Will they even allow you to say good bye to your foot? And even worse, you don't even have an awesome story to explain how you lost your foot. It wasn't blown up by terrorists, you didn't step on a land mine, a shark didn't attack you, you weren't in a horrific car accident where the metal skeleton of the car pinned your foot down requiring the jaws of life to free you. No, instead your story will go like this: I can't remember. I think it was a needle that I accidentally stepped on, and then there was pain, but it went away so I thought I was fine. Turns out I wasn't.

How sad. How tragic.

Fear, this is what I fear. So everytime I get a blister, or something jabs my feet, I freak out. I freak out a lot. Jagged rocks on the beach in Maui, fuck that. I'm not going near it. My feet means more to me than getting some sun and wading in the waves. I think I would lose it if I lost a foot. I'm deformed enough as is. I don't need to be disabled too. And to be disabled by my own doing, that's even worse. You can't be a sour puss because you brought on your own demise. On top of that, think of the hours of rehab you will have to go through to adjust to the prosthetics. Stupid diabetes....

When I was first diagnosed. The first day, as in they looked at me and said, "Well Michelle, you have diabetes.", as they walked me to my holding cell (it was not a patient room that day, it was a holding cell, I was in that room for about 2 hours), I overheard a nurse say, "the foots gone, they are going to have to amputate." Immediately I thought there was no way my day could be any worse than that day. Then fear struck, could it happen to me? Could I be the one in the room finding out that my foot is going to be amputated and someone would overhear the nurse discussing it in the halls as they walk to a room to find out they have diabetes? Ugh...see diabetes, it's likes to threaten not only death but loss of limbs, and blindness, and and...the list goes on....