Plot Twist: The Toe Saga Continues

So… it turns out I have a stubborn infection hanging out in/around my pinky toe joint.

Because of course I do.

I genuinely thought I was nearing the finish line. The wound was healing — slowly, yes — but healing. I had mentally circled the end of March as my “freedom date.” I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Apparently, that light was just the reflection off an X-ray machine.

A couple of weeks ago, I went back to the podiatrist for what I assumed would be a routine check-in. He took one look and wasn’t thrilled.

“This should be further along,” he said That’s never what you want to hear.

He sent me for X-rays to see if there was still an infection lurking around. And sure enough… there it was. Still alive. Still thriving. Apparently unimpressed by the army of antibiotics I had already thrown at it.

You would think nothing could survive that level of pharmaceutical warfare.

You would be wrong.

Next option? Surgery. Remove the joint.

Ugh.

Surgery day arrived. We checked in, waited in pre-op, did the whole hospital shuffle. The doctor came in to go over the plan one more time.

He examined my toe and casually asked: “So are we taking the whole toe or just the joint?”

I’m sorry… what?

That was not previously presented as Option A.

As far as I was concerned, we were removing the joint. I’m still fairly attached to my toe — literally and emotionally — and would prefer amputation to remain a last resort.

He nodded, signed my leg, and said he’d see me in the operating room.

Which, oddly enough, I had to walk to myself. Nothing like strolling into your own surgery with your white butt cheeks hanging out the hospital gown.

They placed me on what can only be described as the world’s least comfortable table. The anesthesiologist explained she’d start with oxygen and then the “sleepy gas.”

She put the mask on and asked, “What’s your favorite vacation?”

I never answered.

Didn’t get a word out.

Lights out.

The next thing I knew, I was in recovery.

Phase 1 for about 15 minutes. Then Phase 2, where Janet met me. The nurse gave us post-op instructions, and just like that, we were heading home.

From my perspective? Everything went smoothly.

Minimal pain (thank God). No drama. No horror stories.

Now we wait.

The doctor did say there’s still a chance I could need another surgery. But I’m choosing hope. I’m choosing to believe this one did the trick.

The first surgery was done cautiously. The hope was that removing the initial problem area, combined with antibiotics, would wipe out the infection throughout the toe.

It didn’t.

So, this time, they removed the joint entirely and sent samples for culture.

And this time? We got an answer.

Enterococcus.

Finally — a specific bacteria with a name and a targeted antibiotic to fight it. I’m now on medication designed specifically for that stubborn little invader. And that gives me something I’ve needed through this whole saga:

Hope.

Maybe this was the missing piece.
Maybe this was the right move.
Maybe this is the beginning of the real recovery.

I am more than ready to put this chapter behind me.

Fingers crossed. Toes… still crossed too.