I love my front porch!
I have a whole other post in my head right now, but that is for another time.
I was out on my porch enjoying the warm sunshine and lovely spring day while painting the cabinet doors to our guest bathroom. I was pleased with how I was going to be able to paint the second coat the next day and get them back up before the weekend.
What’s that saying…Pride comes before a fall? “Pride comes before destruction, and an arrogant spirit before a fall.” Proverbs 16:18 (Holcomb Christian Standard Bible)
Don’t know how I did it, but all of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my foot. I knew immediately I had a splinter in there.
Our porch is 23 years old. We put it in ourselves. Over the years in the sun, it has weathered and dried out and split. You can see the splinters waiting to happen.
No problem, I’ve had plenty of splinters in my feet before. But, then I turn my foot over to get it out and I knew I had a huge problem.
I tried to keep calm but, me, the one who doesn’t do blood very well at all, got somewhat nervous. You can see why.
Where the splinter went in, was a piece of it still hanging out of my foot. This piece was about 2 inches long. It broke as I was trying to pull it out. That was when I noticed the end whereof it was.
It was bleeding at this point. The blood wasn’t bothering me as much as how was I going to get this thing out of my foot. I walked inside, leaving a blood trail behind me. I got up the stairs and hopped to my bedroom to get some tweezers and a needle. I don’t mind blood on the hardwood floors, but it’s a little harder to get out of the carpet.
Coming back downstairs, my foot slipped and I about killed myself, at which point makes the splinter a mute point, so I was glad I was still alive.
Back out to the porch, to the swing to get this splinter, which is now itching me (grrrrr), OUT! I picked some of the skin away to get to the splinter. I try to pull with the tweezers. I look at the time and realize My Man wouldn’t get off work for another hour, then another 45 minutes to get home. This thing isn’t staying in that long. Not if I can help it.
I go back inside to get a knife thinking I can cut it open just enough to get at it. I find MM’s pocket knife. Back outside and I begin again. Nope, this isn’t going to work. I can’t do this. I can’t do it myself. I’m too chicken!
I call MM and tell him I’m on the way to the doctor. He asks if he should come home and take me, but I tell him I’m fine enough to drive myself. It’s only a splinter. The doctor is only a couple of miles away. I can do this.
I get to the doctor’s office and tell them what happened. They send a nurse out to look and see if they can get it out there. They sent one, but three came to look. They take me back to a room for the doctor to take a quick look to see if she can get it out, or if they need to send me to the hospital. Really?
Thankfully, she thinks she can do it.
As I’m sitting in the room, I hear all the nurses discussing my foot. I hear one say, “That isn’t a splinter, that is a piece of wood in there!”
Great! A piece of wood!
I have to soak my foot then, they clean it with beta-dine. (That’s why my foot looks orange in the pic above.) The doctor comes in and gets me into position. I tell her I need to see what is going on or I will jerk too much. If I know what’s coming I can brace myself for it.
For about 10 minutes she tries to pull it out. She is getting teeny-tiny pieces of it out. I can feel her pulling. I can feel it not budging! This is seriously beginning to hurt!
I take that back. Now she has the nurse helping her. The nurse is pushing down on the top of it and the doc is pulling. Now, it is beginning to seriously hurt. I even, without thinking about it, am doing the Lamaze breathing I haven’t done in 23 years! And Yes! It helped!
She decides this piece of wood isn’t coming out! That’s when she pulled out the big gun. The needle to numb my foot. It may be little, but it hurt worse than the thing in my foot. I was doing some heavy breathing while she was poking me with that!
Now the foot is numb and I can relax.
No I can’t! I hear the “snip” of the scissors she is using to cut my foot open. That is as bad as the drill at the dentist! Heaven, please help me!
Like all splinters, one second it’s in and the next it is out.
I am proudly wearing my badge of honor. (No stitches. Wasn’t that deep.)
Well, not any more. This all happened last week and it is much better now.
Moral of this story, God doesn’t like even the smallest amount of pride. You may be taking a log out of your own eye, I mean foot.
Oh…and wear my flip-flops while out on the porch!