How I stubbed my toe and how it may help in the current political crisis

How I stubbed my toe

I wanted to start out on how I stubbed my toe.   It was not the big toe, but the one that was the second farthest from the big toe.  I don't know the name for it except maybe it is the little piggy that had none (roast beef that is), I think you are supposed to start at the big toe.  Anyways, it is also one of my toes which seems to curl under the toe next to it.  I am one of those old-fashioned people who still gets a newspaper every morning (for the young people who do not know what that is, you can search it up on the internet).  I am usually still about 1/2 asleep and 1/2 awake at this time, though I generally am a person who tries not to make excuses to justify my mistakes.

There I was on this particular morning about three weeks ago getting my newspaper and preparing for the new day at work.    I teach at a high school, so we have to get up pretty early in the morning to get to work on time.  It was probably about 5:15 in the morning, so it was still pretty dark out in Houston, Tx.  When heading back to the front door, there are two slight rises that have to be conquered.   The first is about an inch tall that officially separates the walkway which curves into the driveway from the front porch, then there is the threshold of the door which indicates that you are truly inside the house.  Along the walkway, there are a series of potted plants that always greet me as I go back and forth along the jungle way.  I particularly like the Citronella plant whose primary purpose is to keep mosquitos out of the house.  If you know anything about Houston, you should have heard about how popular it is with mosquitoes.  

I have no idea how many thousands or tens of thousands of times I had successfully outwitted these obstacles, but (there always seems to be a but in these kinds of stories) on this particular morning, borrowing words from NASA, Houston we have a problem.  At this point, you may be asking yourself which of the two rises caused the calamity that you are fixing to hear about.  It happens to be the first one just past the Citronella plant which seems to shoot out in every direction like Medusa's hair.    In a split second, all my years of experience went to naught as my piggy who got none caught the slight precipice and caused me to stumble, but not fall.  However, the damage was done, blood was rushing to get out of my toe and pain was stirring my neurotransmitters to a frenzy.  It was not just a simple ouch that hurts, but a complete hodge podge of signals zipping around all the different parts of my brain.

Now, I am a pretty logical person.  Afterall, I am a professional mathematician, I get paid to stand around and talk about math to a bunch of eager and not so eager bright minds in the classroom.   Rather than my emotional brain taking over and letting out a round of expletives, my thinking brain went into action, what is the best thing to do to remedy the situation.  One of the good things about this whole experience is that it happened outside the house, so the immediate rush of blood did not get all over the floor.  I also think (but am not positive) that I had been wearing the socks from the day before which I sometimes did.  This would also explain what I later found out was a limited amount of blood both on the porch as well as in the living room and through the hallway to the bathroom.  So, there I was hobbling to the bathroom with a bloody sock trying to get to the bathtub to put my foot under water.  Even after several minutes of running water (after taking off the sock if indeed I had a sock on), I did not stop the blood, though the level of pain had exponentially depreciated over T + 300 seconds after the incident.

I could have continued with the water, but the next issue was getting a bandaid onto the wound.  From past experiences, I was told I had high platelet counts which I had donated with the sitting in a chair for a long period where blood was taken out of the body, platelets taken out, blood being put back in, more blood taken out, etc. for several cycles.  I still had the same blood that I started with, but with a few less platelets which would regenerate themselves.  Platelets are what helps the blood clot, so my platelets were getting to work as fast as they could under the circumstances.  The first thing that I discovered was that my toenail was barely hanging onto the foot like a poorly bound book which is ready to fall apart at the slighest touch.  It did not even hurt as the toenail came off, and I threw it in the trash.  I later thought that I should have kept it as a trophy or maybe a reminder.   I got a band aid out and as carefully as possible wrapped the toe up.  What really happened is that it took at least three attempts to successfully get the band-aid on.  I then wrapped it with gauze.

By this time, the blood that had been substantially absent from the porch, the living room, and the hallway had not been as kind to the bathroom, so with the bleeding somewhat stopped, I then had to go about the business to clean the floor and rug from the red stains that splattered like a Jackson Pollock canvas.  I then was able to return to the tub for a shower which again meant that the piggy who had none needed another round of wrapping and gauze.  Thinking that the platelets had done their duty, I was able to pull a new sock over the wound and put on the shoe of course after I had gotten dressed.  I was ready to return to my normal life.

By the time second or third period were over, and the students were ready to go to lunch, several of them noticed that I had a slight limp, so naturally they had to ask why.  The story had just enough gore that they had to cringe a little bit but could not turn away without hearing the whole saga, but not gory enough to have them turn away before the end.  I did ask if any of them wanted to see it, but I could not get any takers.  None of my students who plan to go into the medical field were there, so I was unable to tell whether they could handle a little blood.  It might have been a good thing because by the time I got home and had taken off my shoe, I found that the sock was red on about 1/5 of its surface area.  The second day had less of a limp as well as only a little blood on the sock, perhaps some from the shoe that also absorbed the red stuff.  Day three was the last day I wrapped it in gauze and now three weeks out, there is no limp, no blood, and of course only a small emerging toenail.

This story in and of itself is just another embarrassing (though no one was there to witness it) story amidst all the stories of my life.  However, as a Christian, I have this odd and inexplicable belief that most if not all things happen for a purpose.  While I do not seek the deeper purpose of many events in my life, I have come to see this episode as an opportunity to address one of the leading political crises of our time.

Dear Mr. Putin, I see my stumping of my toe as an analogy to the current invasion of Ukraina.  From what I read in the US media, you had expected to waltz into Ukraina as a conquering hero removing a government that the people did not want.  In fact, what really happened is that you stubbed your toe upon entering another sovereign country.  No matter how many times you had previously successfully negotiated the international political movement, this is the time that you stumbled and almost fell on your face.  Just as I had lost my toenail, you have lost a lot of good men who I assume are not that much different from me and those around me.  Men whose family will no longer be able to hear their voices, who will live only in memories.

Continuing with the analogy, it is you who has the power to put on the band-aids and gauze needed to stop the blood flowing, blood that is staining not only a country, but that continues to stain the world and cry out for justice.  Blood that will take years to clean, and another moment that will insure once again that the world will never be the same again.  Unlike my story, this story of your stubbing the toe may be too gory to hear and tell.

Where do we go from here?  I am not trained to be a diplomat, but if I could somehow be a part of the solution rather than the problem, I am more than willing to do what could be done to help the solution.  I am a teacher and have off the summer here in the United States, so I would have several months of June and July to talk, listen, and work to resolve the issue.  I am sure my church could find others to work on Vacation Bible school as well as working as part of the lawn team.  I do not know if my school would save a place for me if it went on too long.  Something needs to happen and happen soon so that the world does not walk in fear of the end of humankind.   You have the power to change, and while you may be embarrassed by the ordeal, only you can stop it.   I call on you to change your mind and intentions before it is too late.

.