What Makes Me Unique

Back when I taught high school classes, I used to begin each new class with an ice-breaker about unique traits. First, we would discuss what it means to be unique. Then, I would encourage them to think up at least three unique traits about them within this particular group of people (hoping to settle on at least one for each student).

It was a great way to get to know something unusual about my students and it helped me to remember them by name by the first or second day of classes. I still remember the names of many of those students and some of the unique traits they chose to share.

Of course, to give them a bit of help and some extra time for thought, I would always start out by introducing what I considered to be my three unique traits and we would see if any of them had to be crossed off (to think up new ones). For the first one, I had to be sure to wear sandals (or heels with nylons).

My first unique trait always had to do with my feet and the students always wanted to see evidence. I would tell them: "I think I am probably the only person in this room who can say that they have only 8 toenails." Gasps would ring out, followed by the expected demand to see my feet. Then, of course, I would have to tell the story of my feet.

When I went to the Philippines with a Salvation Army service corps, I knew it would be a life-changing experience. But, I didn't know that some of the changes would actually be physical. The area of Tondo, where my partner, Jody, and I lived for the summer had no drainage systems in place. When it rained, as it often did, the water rose and the area flooded. If we headed out on a dry morning, we could easily find ourselves trekking home in knee-deep waters. Sadly, we had no "wellies" (British rain boots for tramping about in flood waters)!

To make matters worse, you have to remember that in the Philippines, "all of God's green earth is a privy." So, this water was filled with human waste and other "basura" (Tagolog for "trash"). Apparently, whilst traipsing through this lovely basura water, I decided to play hostess to a fungus (not the only thing I ended up being hospitable to).

At first, the infection was merely bothersome. My large toenails yellowed and became difficult to cut. Then, the infection began to spread. I tried several over-the-counter remedies, but never really met with much success. Finally, I was growing really annoyed with the problem and saw an advert for a free foot exam with a podiatrist.

Of course, it wasn't surprising to discover that I had a problem. What was surprising was just how persistent the problem was. The doctor suggested that the large toe-nails were the most likely to cause significant damage and should be removed via laser surgery. One was so badly gone, they would have to remove it permanently. The second one, they would remove temporarily and see if it grew back in healthy. The smaller toenails would have to remain fungal and be treated with other medication.

I had the surgery. I dealt with the follow-up care. I waited. The second toenail grew back fungal. I had the surgery again. I dealt with follow-up care again. One of the toenails, began to grow back, but only from the middle of the toe-nail bed. The doctor said, "Hmmmm. This is an anomoly. I've never seen this happen before. Perhaps a small amount of the nail cell fell just on the middle and is now growing... Oh well. That's all we can do."

You really wouldn't want to see what the students saw. I don't think I ever took a photo. One large toe, devoid of any toenail. Another large toe, with a small bump of nail in the middle. All the other toenails in various stages of decline with the continued fungal growth. Topical Lamisil didn't help, and I think I didn't go on the oral because I was wanting to conceive.

Anyway, for years, I absolutely hated my feet. I still wore sandals, but tried to find ones that would cover my nails. At one point, my friend, Beth, informed me that her mother-in-law had noticed my bare feet while I was over at her house and had thought I had a really bad case of "chewing off the nails." EWWWWW!

Finally, I banged my smallest toe into a table leg and had to see another podiatrist. This one urged me to take care of the problem completely. I took the oral Lamisil (for months) and my other toenails became healthy again. Then, the dr. performed another surgery (with a knife - no laser, this time) and cut and stitched the toe where regrowth was occurring. Follow-up treatment was far more strenuous than I expected (and it was complicated when, the day after having the stitches removed, one of the third-graders accidentally stepped on it - YEOWWCH!).

Now, I feel free to share a photo of my feet with my blog-readers. I feel comfortable wearing sandals. Sometimes, I paint the toenails and it even looks like I have toenails on the two big toes. But, mostly, I just recognize them as the thing that makes me truly unique.