I don’t like horror stories.
I’m not big on scary things, in general (besides Halloween…I love dressing up)…but horror stories, in the form of tales told ’round the campfire or in media such as television or film, have never been my cup of tea. Probably because I’m a giant scaredy-cat, but I digress.
My disdain for horror doesn’t mean I’ve been able to successfully avoid it over the years. I’ve traipsed through my share of haunted houses, watched countless scary movies (with my hands over my eyes for a good portion of all films), and listened to spooky ghost stories.
The scariest story of all that I’ve heard over and over again has to do with…
Diabetes. And feet. Without going into more detail – because I’m shuddering at the mere thought – diabetes complications could lead to, um, amputations.
I’m not trying to make light of a very serious subject here: Let me be crystal clear when I say that diabetes complications are real and terrible, I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. They also frighten me so much that I tend to avoid blogging or even talking about them altogether. The slightest blur in my vision or tingling in my toes can send waves of panic through my brain that are so intense that I convince myself that I’m experiencing my first diabetes complications.
So when I discovered a cut on my toe several weeks ago, I couldn’t help but totally freak out, especially when I noticed blood around the site.
For most people, a cut on the toe sounds like no big deal – you just put some antibiotic cream on it, wrap a Band-Aid around it, and let it heal. But for someone like me who has diabetes, a little cut triggers fears of serious issues like cellulitis or other infections that could lead to major problems.
It might sound ridiculous, but in the first couple days after I noticed my cut (it was a bit like a split in my skin), I had horrifying visions of my toe turning black and falling off. I became hyper-aware of every sensation I could and couldn’t feel in that area, and when I felt a slight stinging around the area a few times, I imagined that it meant that my days with all of my toes were numbered.
Was it silly for me to jump to such dramatic conclusions? Probably. Was I being paranoid? Definitely. But my overactive imagination was enough to convince me to at least consult my primary care physician about the matter.
I’m glad that I did. Over a two-week span, I had two virtual appointments with my doctor who took my concerns seriously. I described the issues and he gave me advice as to how to treat the cut (stop putting Neosporin and a Band-Aid around it each day, let it breathe, use a nail file to very gently proximate the wound, make sure I wear socks and shoes for all forms of exercise to better protect my feet). He agreed with my overarching concern: to heal it in order to prevent it from getting worse.
My toe is doing much better now, and after all that, I feel a bit (okay, a lot) sheepish that I made such a big deal about it in my head when I initially spotted the split in my skin. But in life with diabetes, everything related to my health has to be taken seriously, even if it means dealing with an added source of toe-tal stress.