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Footsies
By Ellen Snortland Pasadena Weekly Columnist
It’s a slow, sweet and thankfully cool Sunday in Southern California. My hairdresser, Susann Edmunds, and I have been seeing each other for 20-plus years and have bonded over many things, yet I still manage to surprise her.
Hang on to your wigs and keys: I go under the knife to have two toes on my right foot sewn together. I fully acknowledge this might fall into TMI territory, so you may want to stop reading now. I have had a chronic corn between my right baby toe and its next little piggy for years.
Until recently, I would go to my favorite podiatrist, Dr. Wenjay Sung, in Arcadia, and he’d “shave” off the corn, which is actually a nasty little callus on steroids. I’d be good for a month or so and then have it removed again.
Dr. Sung has a special place in my heart. I never had kids, but if I’d shopped at the offspring store and visited the “sons” department, I would have picked him. For one thing, our visits aren’t just about perfunctory medical stuff. We talk about books, including our favorite novels, and have turned each other on to some of our favorite reads. “Hail Mary” by Andy Weir was his latest entry in the “You’ve gotta read this!” department (he was right), and mine was “The Dictionary of Lost Words” by Pip Williams. So even though my corn — which I’m calling Cornelius — causes excruciating pain, I always looked forward to my appointments with Dr. Sung.
One day he says, “There’s a procedure that’s not covered by insurance, so it’ll be out of pocket. I can’t guarantee anything, but it might work.” By this time, I had fallen over and hit the ground from the pain in my little toe and will do anything to have a normal walking life. “Give it to me, Doc! I’ll do anything! What is it?” He had a nurse practitioner come in and inject fat between my two toes, as toes lose fat faster than any other place on our bodies. Oh, the irony! I struggle with fat in every other part of my body, yet I don’t have any in the one place I need it! Fat toes keep the Cornelius’ away.
So we tried the fat injections; they could hear me screaming down the medical center hallway. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk, anything, I did it!” It’s easy to see why the favorite body parts of torturers are the digits. I walk into the reception area, and everyone stares at the floor or the ceiling. “Amy, everyone could hear me, right?” She said, “Yes.” “I’m so embarrassed.” She said, “Don’t be. I’ve seen men twice your size scream like little boys, louder than you did.” Phew. OK.
Sadly, the fat injection didn’t work. Back to Cornelius, rearing his nasty head like a sharp piece of gravel between my toes. Meanwhile, I try telling myself that if this is my biggest medical problem, I should feel grateful… until I step on my foot the wrong way and ugly-cry. It’s reminiscent of the canard, “If you think little things are not a big deal, try sleeping in a room with a mosquito.”
I already have a foot condition called “windswept deformity.” Is that a “Wuthering Heights” malady? It sounds romantic. My sisters used to mercilessly taunt me with “Duck feet!” At family reunions, I’d take relatives aside, take off my shoes, and ask them if anyone else in the family had “windswept” feet. Nope. Norwegians have fjord feet: bumpy, granite-like and cold.
We decide that since the fat injections were a bust, the next step is a procedure whose name I can never remember and always have to Google: toe syndactyl w/excisional biopsy of lesion. Fun! In English, “sewing my little toe to the next one so they won’t rub and make a Cornelius.”
It turns out I’m in very good company. Michael Jordan also had this done. He was off the courts for two weeks, and then, swoosh! He was back. “Will I be able to play basketball after you sew my toes together?” I ask. “Yes,” Dr. Sung says. “That’s a miracle,” I say. “I’ve never played it before.” (Insert rimshot here.)
At least I’ll get some good drugs.
P.S. Please put 7 p.m. Oct. 22 in your calendars. I’m doing a free staged reading of my award-winning solo show, “Now That She’s Gone,” at All Saints Episcopal of Pasadena. It’s right across from Pasadena City Hall and easy to get to from Downtown Los Angeles. More next week.
Ellen Snortland has written this column for decades and also teaches creative writing. She can be reached at: ellen@beautybitesbeast.com. Her award-winning film “Beauty Bites Beast” is available for download or streaming at https://vimeo.com/ondemand/beautybitesbeast
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