It was meant to be another Saturday afternoon swim in the public wading pool with Ava, were it not for a slight complication moments before we were supposed to leave.
I had decided to cut my toenails.
It seemed like a good idea to give the old box-cutters a little trim, being that we were about to be semi-nude in mixed company with a rather large group of strangers. Now, while I may be a liberal-minded artist in most respects, I am deeply fundamentalist when it comes to my feet. As they spend most of their time modestly covered, my toes often don’t get the attention they deserve. Without going into much gruesome detail, let’s just say that cutting my toenails requires a little more than the modern, lever-action nail-clippers; usually something with a little “heft” to it, something could handle its own dealing with Chinese Sumac in my back yard.
While I’m in a confessional mood, I would just like to admit here that I’ve always had a mild phobia of those lever-action nail clippers because they remind me of pliers. My toes, as with a few other body parts, are the last places I would want to use anything that resembles a set of wire-strippers.
Anyway, as it happens, I had gotten a little careless trimming my toenails and just as I was putting on my socks, I noticed I had cut my middle toe on my right foot, just under the nail. If you’re surprised that I hadn’t noticed the cut when it happened, I guess I have to chalk it up to a “guy thing”, or maybe just a “Rocco thing”. I can go days without noticing minor injury. My body has probably been inflicted by thousands of scrapes and bruises, and has duly dealt with these slights without the least of my knowledge or gratitude.
Normally, I would have tisked myself and gone about my day, but since I was going to a public pool where I would be showering and wading among the great, and recently-washed, masses, I was suddenly teleported back to the late 80s, with the feathered hairdos and great public realization that AIDS was not just something that you worried about in San Fran. Suddenly, every water fountain and toilet seat was suspect. Needless to say, with my foot-related grooming injury, I was scared and tenderly mortal. I needed an answer.
After Googling “should I go swimming in a public pool with a cut on my toe?”, an answer is what I got, from Answers.com of all places. I like the site. It’s a great place to settle an argument. But this was my life we were talking about here, and would I really want to put my trust in people who feel it necessary to have cartoon caricatures for their profile pics? Besides, in the health and incurable disease department, I don’t want to rely on an answer that received the most votes because it “sounds good”.
I then decided to call TeleHealth Ontario. For those living outside the province, it’s a government attempt to reduce emergency room wait times by letting people speak to a registered nurse over the phone about their health problems. “You mean I don’t have to take my daughter to the ER?” A relieved-looking woman states on one of the public notices about the program. Of course, in the land of cheap lawyers and million-dollar settlements, it’s pretty much what they tell you to do anyway.
How big is the cut? Can you describe it? Is it still bleeding? Can you walk? Are you in severe pain? Are there any tendons showing? Is the toe discharging pus? Do you see any growing redness or swelling? Any reddening of your veins or arteries? Do you feel dizzy or light-headed?
No? Well it’s good that you’re OK sir. Now, in regards to your question, I suggest you call your local pool.
In a nutshell, I was told by a registered nurse that the best answer I can get about catching a contagious, incurable disease is from a lifeguard.
Who knew? Baywatch was right all along.
Anyhow, twenty minutes, one restless baby and one hypochondriac later, we decided to go to a local petting zoo, where our daughter would exhibit a lot of excitement about the other patrons and absolutely no interest in the pigs or cows. But that’s a story for another day.
Thanks! My toe is doing fine, by the way :)