About nine days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with a craving for cold, clear, healthy water from the dispenser in our refrigerator. I'm absolutely sure it had nothing to do with the leftover cheesecake that was also in there. No one's under oath here. Anyway, somewhere on the well worn path between the bedroom and kitchen, I stepped on a small piece of glass. Funny how that'll wake you right up.
I reached down, pulled it out of my foot, threw it away and continued on to the cheesecake. Excuse me, water.
Fast forward to last night. I came home from having lunch with my great friend Carrie (Petros in Manhattan Beach - chicken souvlaki is the hot tip), got out of the car, set my foot down and could barely walk. I managed to make it into the house, fell into one of our living room chairs (the one without the dog on it), and stayed there most of the night.
Since the glass stepping happened a week and half ago, and I'd been fine since, I didn't give it a second thought. Instead, I figured it was the new orthotics I'd gotten about five days ago and was still getting used to.
However, it was not the pain-free foot morning I'd hoped for. I was going to tough it out and just go - always a good idea with four days of walking and standing in lines ahead - but the wife put her foot down (SWIDT?), insisting I call my podiatrist and get it seen.
So my son drove down to Comic Con with his friend Austin at 7 this morning, and I saw my doctor at 10.
My foot was clearly swollen, with a redness emanating out in a circle from one spot on my foot. He pressed the center of the spot, and I believe there may still be a hole in his ceiling where I went through.
So he decided to scrape my foot, which is exactly what it sounds like.
Scraping skin off the bottom of my foot, he wasn't having any luck finding anything. Then, he stopped for a moment and said, "Ah, there it is - don't move." I didn't move, and he got a tweezer-looking thing and pulled out a small chunk of the glass I'd stepped on nine days ago.
I couldn't believe it. He said if I'd come down here to the Con with it, I probably would've wound up in the ER with a fever and nasty infection. Instead, he got it out, gave me an antibiotic to take if it didn't feel better by the end of today (which it does) and suggested I soak it in hot water with epsom salt (just finished my second soaking).
Fortunately tonight was Preview Night at Comic Con, so I didn't miss much except walking the exhibition hall, which I couldn't have done anyway.
My son and his friend scored tickets to the world premiere of Star Trek: Beyond, so that's where they are tonight. My excellent friend Dale is here, so he met me at the Fox Sports Grill in the hotel and we had dinner (it didn't involve walking, just an elevator ride).
With my foot feeling considerably better, the Con will start for real for me tomorrow.
I still don't know what broke in our house or where that piece of glass came from.
But I think the lesson is don't have cheesecake leftovers, and I won't have to walk to the kitchen.
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