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Southern Oregon Journal: Toe jams are no laughing matter Sunday Aug 20, 2017 at 12:01 AM By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune I wasn’t even having fun when it happened. I mean, I’ve stubbed toes multiple times, and the resulting discomfort did not require bedrest and crutches! There’s a first time for everything, so by way of warning, let’s get the mundane details out of the way so I can offer some useful tips on the “brighter side of crutching.” Nothing induces sarcasm (and endless puns from “friends”) like a good jammed toe. It brings out other things, too, not to be printed. I was simply walking in the laundry room, though barefoot, when my pinky’s neighbor, the piggy that never gets roast beef, met up hard with a card table atilt against a wall. It hurt, of course, but no more than other stubbings of memory, though leave it to me to stub an odd one. In no time, it bruised and swelled. I began laying on the ice, but walking on it was out. I borrowed a pair of crutches from Ken and Barb, my neighbors who look forward to bailing me out of jams and bring me wine to boot. I’ve learned over the past few days that crutches are good for far more than walking. A crutch is useful as an arm extension for flipping light switches, batting at flies, and pulling books and cats sitting on nearby rugs. Side note: Isn’t it nice we don’t have to wield those heavy wooden creations anymore? The kind Tiny Tim hobbled around on with an old rag for underarm cushion? No, these are lightweight aluminum jobbies I can almost fly with, much to the cat’s horror. I’d planned to see the doctor, but the Facebook Medical Community told me to save time and money by doing the same things they would. Taping my toes didn’t go as smoothly as they made it sound. "Just tape your toes," friends said. No big deal. Sandy told me to tape it to my forehead so I could watch it heal. Some advice is more appreciated than others. My brother-in-law, Bradly, told me to call a toe truck. My own daughter, Emily, said, “Don’t worry, Mom. It will heel.” Then laughed at me in text language. And Sheryl accused me of not toeing the line. Others have played a more helpful role, like Linda, who sends me hearts and sweet messages of encouragement, and Lane, who brings Oliver his weekly cat-food allotment. Oliver has turned this into a game to see how quickly he can plow through the food before Uncle Lane’s next visit. Lynn is my grocery supply liaison. I use Fred Meyer’s incredibly handy ClickList feature online, pay for the groceries, choose a pick-up time, and Lynn drives up to a call box where they load the groceries right into the car. Daniel is a terrific picker. I highly recommend this time-saving service, and the first three are free. Only $4.95 after that. I have chosen to remain mostly sunny throughout the trial, with few fits of despair and self-loathing, and have gained new talents and workout routines, such as: I had neglected my arm exercises before the incident. Now they get a mandatory routine every day with the crutches, and by doing the crab walk up and down the stairs on my bum. Try it. It’s like doing dips only you get somewhere. Carrying something as you go, say, a mug of tea on your forehead, enlists a certain amount of dexterity. Eating ice cream and drinking wine (not together) while lying prone is effective at working the abdominals. And I’ve improved my one-legged balancing and pivoting skills while maneuvering between the kitchen counters. Memory skills improve as I realize I no longer have the luxury of walking into a room and forgetting why. So, mind your digits, celebrate mobility, and enjoy the Great Eclipse safely with someone suitably in awe of the heavens. — Peggy Dover is a freelance writer. Email her at [email protected].