Yesterday, I went back to the hair dresser I'd gone to before my stroke occurred. Got a great haircut, all done with a razor. Today I got up feeling quite chipper with my new haircut, but my left foot, with a partially detached toenail from a previous injury, was sending up distress signals. Major ouches.
Not to worry. My wonderful physical therapist at St Downtown took off the dressing for a wound check. The old toenail was just hanging on by a thread. The replacement toenail was 2 to 3 mm long, growing in from the base. So off came the old toenail and after a little debridement, on came the protective band-aid to keep my sock from rubbing against the exposed toenail bed.
I am blessed to live in a state where the physical therapists are the designated wound-care folks.
The rest of the day has passed pretty much pain free in the foot department.
The punster in me cannot resist: I have better understanding now.