Gory FOOTage, or Running Afoul of China

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I don't know what it is about holidays in China, but whenever they come around I seem to be bedridden. Last time was the May 1st holiday, and you all know that story. This time it's the Dragon Boat Festival, and I have badly damaged my right foot.

It began a little while ago, when I accidentally broke the china bowl that held all my spare change and my key. I inadvertently knocked it off the table, only to watch it break into three large pieces, along with some smaller chunks. I gathered up the sherds, but wasn't sure of how to dispose of them after that. So they sat there on my front table.

Then, just the other day, my boss's boss came over to inspect the apartment. I had to do something with the pottery sherds, so I hid them in my room. Apparently, one of the smaller pieces of china slid off and landed on the floor without my knowledge or consent.

The next morning when I got up, I stepped on it--and that's not the bad part.

It sort of stuck to my foot as I walked, and I assumed that it was (as is usually the case with my apartment) a small stone. I tried to wipe it off against my other foot--and that's how I ripped a magnificent chunk of skin off the top. As I looked down trying to comprehend the pain, the blood started...and didn't stop for 20 minutes. It was spurting everywhere! It was incredible, and the way things stand right now, my humble tiled apartment floor puts the bloodstained floor at S-21 to shame.

I called the people at my school (who still made me work that evening, those dirty bat sherds) for backup, and they sent one of the Chinese teachers to bring me some gauze and medical tape.

Although she nearly had a panic attack when she saw the state of my foot and tried to manhandle me into going to the hospital, I was grateful for her aid. "If you were a man I would marry you," she told me. And this isn't a homosexual thing; presumably, it stems from the fact that I came alone to China, despite the formidable language barrier; I dream of being a diplomat; and I faced my shredded foot with stunning indifference. These are the sorts of things you discuss when you are cleaning a wound.

And I will say honestly, I was suddenly too choked up to respond to her admiration.

I then took a taxi to school and performed my teacherly duties for the painful next six hours.

That was yesterday. Today I've just been hanging out in bed--the wound hemorrages when I put weight on it, and I must have severed a nerve because my right big toe is completely numb. These are not good incentives for getting out of bed. These are not complaints, either.

No sir, I am not complaining in the slightest; I am telling you the highlight (lowlight?) of my week and also sitting here praying that this doesn't develop some kind of life-threating infection.

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Photos

The Perpetrator
If you look closely, you can see part of my flesh still stuck to the sherd.

My Footage and Bandage
I'd have put an image of the wound itself, or even the bloodstains in my apartment, but I thought it might not be appreciated. It might even be gross.

Comments

[susan]

I am glad that you are alive still. I loved all the puns. Hope it's better now.

[Global Drifter]

Footage
Oh, it's not any better yet. I am still limping around with a massive bandage caked to my foot, my toe is still numb, and I haven't been able to shower for a week. But I am alive. And one day the foot will heal.