A couple of days ago I noticed this when I was getting dressed:
I showed it to a mom at work.
“Oh, you need to get that looked at right away.”
I showed it to friend who grew up on a farm.
“Do you think it’s a brown recluse?”
I described it to a sister who works at a hospital.
“You better go to the doctor right now–a woman I work with had a spider bite and got MRSA (a type of staph) and was in the hospital for three days.”
I took a picture with my phone and emailed it husband a thousand miles away.
A few hours later, I picked up husband at airport and he looked at it again and suggested a doctor visit.
So, the next day I went to the doctor. My regular doctor was booked, but her nine-year-old partner was free.
“Yep, something bit you,” he said. “It’s nothing bad, just ugly. Come back if it changes.”
“That’s it,” I thought? “You’re not even a little impressed?”
I quickly scrolled through a list of probable ailments that might get his attention.
I was pretty sure that the little toe on my right foot was broken, but that didn’t seem worthy.
I’ve got a pretty impressive patch of flaky skin on the bottom of my right foot, but I really didn’t want to bring that up either.
“Can you just cut it off?” I said. “It’s really grossing me out.”
He laughed and put a bandaid on it.
Oh well, at least I got off work a couple of hours early.