How I Got Here

"F**K!"
That was the first word out of my mouth.  I was mowing the lawn in my side yard when it happened.  The side yard lawn is in poor condition, filled with dandelions, bare patches, and the stump of a large blue spruce tree that had been removed a couple years ago.  As I tried to clean up the area around the stump I pulled the mower backwards (insert Darwin joke here) and lost my footing.  The blade struck my right foot before I released the kill switch.
It didn't hurt immediately; the initial impact had no "sharp" sensation.  The seriousness of the injury didn't occur to me until I took off my shoe.  My big toe was shredded.  Still no pain, so I hobbled into the house so my wife could drive me to the nearest urgent care clinic.  We didn't go straight to the emergency room because (a) it wasn't bleeding very much, and (b) I was still thinking that some stitches would fix it.  Still not much pain.  The attending physician at urgent care took one look at my toe and sent us to the emergency room.
The serious pain started on the drive to the emergency room.  My injury was serious enough that they fast-tracked me into an examination room.  It was there that the doctor pointed out to me that I had an open fracture.  That's BONE?  I thought it was my toenail!  There are things that a person should never see; your own bones are on that list.  Now the pain was really starting to hit, so they gave me a local anesthetic.  You know you're screwed when a doctor tells you "This is gonna hurt".  Those lidocaine shots were the single most painful part of the treatment.  The tetanus shot they gave me was a piece of cake compared to the local.  After the on-call orthopedist saw my X-rays my mangled toe was wrapped in gauze and I was admitted as a surgical patient.
The next morning I was examined by a podiatrist.  He explained the grim truth: my toe was so badly damaged that attempting to repair the injury would be tricky, recovery would take months, and there was a good chance that the repair would fail anyway.  The other option was to simply amputate the toe.  Dr. Mah explained that such a surgery would heal completely in about three weeks.
For me, amputation was the logical choice.  I don't know if I have the emotional resources (not to mention financial) to deal with a months-long rehab, and the amputation would be relatively inconspicuous.  I would simply start wearing shoes at my job as a taekwondo master instructor.  Martial arts shoes are the original minimalist footwear, with very thin soles and not much traction.  What about kicking?  Short answer: I don't know.  After my foot heals I'll find out.  My sparring days are pretty much over anyway.  I am confident that I'm intact enough to demonstrate techniques to the students.
I want to talk a little about morphine.  I spent two days in a morphine-induced haze, and there wasn't anything even remotely pleasant about it.  I was still in a lot of pain, counting the minutes between doses.  Morphine also screws up your plumbing.  Constipation wasn't an issue, since I didn't eat anything after Sunday night.  Not being able to pee?  I'm type 2 diabetic, so you do the math.  Second most painful part of my treatment: getting a urinary catheter.
By the night of the surgery the pain was getting worse.  I was grateful when the anesthesiologist
handed me the mask so I could really sleep.  I awoke in the recovery room a couple hours later with a large wrap around my right foot and much less pain.  Surgery came off without a hitch.  The first few moments of my new normal.  Dr. Mah later informed me that even if I had chosen to "stand and fight" that the toe was too damaged to save.
Today is four days since the amputation.  The pain has been minimal.  What has surprised me is how small the emotional impact has been (so far).  Last night I finally worked up the nerve to look at the injury photos the ER nurse insisted on taking with my smartphone.  Just as gruesome as I remembered, yet the picture seemed to be someone else's foot.  I'm healing now, and THAT injury couldn't possibly heal.  Of course, my foot has been under wraps since the surgery, so I haven't been able to see it.  That could very well set off some sort of emotional reaction, but I guess I'll find out.
I am blessed with the knowledge that IT COULD HAVE BEEN MUCH WORSE.  A couple inches the other direction and I could have lost half my foot, or even bled to death.  Even if I had been injured worse it still pales in comparison to what so many soldiers around the world go through.  I just had some bad luck, that's all.  I get to enjoy the rest of my life (almost) intact.
In four days I see Dr. Mah (my podiatrist) again.  I'm anxious to hear what he has to say.  I want to see what my foot looks like now.  I want to figure out what kind of footwear is gonna work best (my guess: probably off-the-rack running shoes).  I am already chomping at the bit to get back to my new passion: trail running.  I'm missing a race on Sunday, and I'm pissed.  I'm even more annoyed that I'm losing at least a month's worth of running.  August, no less.  The monsoon season in Oregon starts in about eight weeks.  But hey, I'm gonna run again, and soon!  I have a feeling I'm gonna appreciate the rain and cold like never before.