Do hobble to the Dr anyway. It may not be a broken toe, and should at least be correctly diagnosed. (I am sure it may be RSI related, having to remove your foot from your mouth on a daily basis could yield such symptoms )

Once correctly diagnosed, then it can be ignored as usual.

Oh and...Boneknit (knit bone??)/ Comfrey tea. It works.

Only if they are good looking. I am surprised you don't know that.

I can loan you some crutches (with delivery). You'll deffo get more sympathy.

Btw, have you iced your wounded appendage?

I was going to tell you to leave it but since it is the big toe, you should go to the doctor. Don't go to the emergency, just go to see your GP. He will pass an X-Ray if needed.

Hubby broke his big toe at the biginning of last summer and he got thrombosis from it. So be careful.

Get to have your doctor to keep an eye on it.

Not yet. I have been threatening to go down the shops and get him a bag of frozen peas, but apparently I can't be spared until after at least the fourth cup of tea.

Manflu, eh? Who knew it could have complications like this?

I'm not sure the toe really is broken in a strictly technical sense - no bruising and very little swelling - but I'm sure it hurts like it's broken.

Nah. To be honest, as long as I keep it elevated and don't move it, it's not too bad. It's very stiff, and throbs a little (oo-er!), but I can live with it. Even hobbling back and forth around the flat isn't too bad, as long as I don't try to stand on one leg.

It's just that I can't put my shoes on and walk to the bus stop without introducing MN to all kinds of new vocabulary, and I feel it is my husbandly duty to avoid such things.

I dont reckon its broken. Being an oaf, I've broken my toe once and damaged my toe more than once. Sometimes a good bruise is more painful than a break, just that a break lasts weeks, a bruise just a few days. Good luck.

Does that mean our date tonight is off DB?

I hope not... but...

Ask MN!

I can't understand how you broke your toe. I though famous swiss railway people had best jackets and shoes to protect them.
Sing a chain gang blues to heal: I woke up this mooorning, and I broke my toeeeee

Sympathy.

Put on sandels and walk backwards! Sounds silly, looks silly, works better than walking forwards.

And here is a little song to practise walking backwards to.

Picture an exhausted fellow coming home from work, kicking off his shoes, throwing off his coat and collapsing on the settee with a satisfied sigh.

Picture slightly eccentric, but utterly lovable, Midwestern wife, who spent the day at home with a terrible headache, but who recovered enough to go exploring in the afternoon.

"I found an underground balcony," she announces gleefully, almost clapping her hands with the excitement of it all.

"A what?" mumbles exhausted husband, cautiously.

"An underground balcony! It's like our little balcony, but it's underground, in the cellar!"

"How can it be a balcony, if it's underground?" asks husband, wearily, painfully conscious of the fact that his wife grew up in a wigwam and probably can't tell the difference between a window and a door, let alone a balcony and this mysterious architectural feature in the cellar.

"Never mind," he continues. "I'll come and look for myself."

So resigned husband and excited wife trudge down the stairs to see this unique "underground balcony".

"Here it is!" squeals wife, "Look! It's a balcony, but it's underground!"

"It's the service door to the cellar. Look, there are the steps up to the car parking area..."

"Yes, but it's like a balcony - but underground! We could bring a table and chairs out here and have a picnic and nobody would ever know!"

"But why would we want a picnic outside the service door to the cellar? It's not like we'd ever get any sunsh...OOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!! FNNNFFFFFF! FNFFFFFFGGGGHHHHHHFFFFFNNN! Fniggits"*

Husband has stubbed his besocked, unshod toe upon one of the aforementioned concrete steps. Husband is a bit miffed. Husband gingerly stomps upstairs and bravely holds back the tears.

Husband wonders why he didn't marry an architect's daughter, or at least someone who can tell the difference between a balcony and a stairwell...

And that's how I (possibly) broke my toe.



*Husband's new year's resolution is to clean up his vocabulary. This is turning out to be much more difficult than expected.

Yes, see the doctor, you pay a lot for health care and therefor you deserve the good drugs. This will also save you some money because you need less alcohol to survive the weekend.

Goodness, gracious me! We've another episode of Englishforumers! An accident with possibly fatalities (hey, DB is a man and therefor an ouchy-drama queen), marriage, affairs, bad language, offers of help, drugs, tea, good/bad/no advice... .

Post-on! Is it too early for a beer? Wait, a PINT! I am being England-friendly today.

^^ That really is exactly what happened. I blame bigblue2; if it hadn't been for him I would never have pitter-pattered down to the cellar and discovered the sub-balcony in the first place.


(Now that I have discovered it, I remain determined to stage a picnic there, as soon as DB's toe heals and the weather warms up a bit.)

One of my youngsters once said she had never heard me laughing out loud until I joined EF.
Pity she's not around or she'd have another chance to hear it.

I'm not supposed to laugh, am I?

Go to the doctor anyway. If its really broken, they'll have to set it in a little cast for it to heal nicely or there will be long term problems down the road. You dont want your kid next time laughing at your deformed, squidgy toe, do you?

Touch of genius!
(sorry MN, don't want to bolster his ego too much, but it really does sound good)

The things you go through to get out of your washingup duty ...