WARNING: Personal Hygiene May Necessitate Impromptu Hospital Visit

I hate my feet.

I understand that feet are a rather important part of the human anatomy. But honestly, the pair I was born with are more trouble than they are worth most of the time. Even in Azerbaijan.

I was cutting my tone-nails one Tuesday night (Yes. I lead an exciting life.) - When the latest pedial (is that a word?) mishap occurred. I managed to cause some drama with my big toe. There was blood and gauze involved.

But I put a plaster on it and went limping about my daily business. The big toe is actually quite an important body part, which is something you don’t realize until it has impaired function. Until Day 6. When I decided it was probably a good idea to go visit the doctor before my toe fell off due to gangrene. (I hasten to clarify: It wasn’t actually infected.)

So I skipped school that Friday, slept in an extra hour and caught a taxi to Baku. Now I have to admit that I totally expected the PeaceCorps doctor to give me the proverbial slap on the wrist for bothering him with something so silly before sending me home on an afternoon bus. Accordingly I brought my computer, the books I’d finished reading and some money for lunch.

So imagine my surprise at the following diagnosis: I’ll see if I can get you an appointment with a surgeon this afternoon.

Pardon? Surely, there was a translation barrier at work here. A surgeon for my toe! What exactly were they planning to do? Amputate it? It wasn’t a funny colour. Surely that wasn’t necessary. It turns out it was - the surgeon that is – not the amputation.

Later that afternoon I was sitting in an exam room at one of the Baku medical clinics. An English-speaking doctor explained to me what he planned to do to my toe, and confirmed my willingness for treatment after every sentence. Then he set to work. There were a few painful minutes when the doctor - refusing to believe my protests that the anesthesia hadn’t set in yet – started slicing a little bit prematurely. Otherwise it was an uneventful procedure. I survived. But missed my bus home.

I hadn’t been planning to spend the night. But I managed to borrow a t-shirt from the communal clothes pile in PCV lounge at the office and bought a toothbrush. I was not impressed the doctor had decreed no shower for 36 hours. Why else do PCVs come into Baku if not for the hot water on-demand?

But the fun doesn’t end there. The weather was very unpleasant – I stepped in a puddle getting off the bus at the hotel, therefore soaking my freshly bandaged foot. But winter in Baku warrants three pairs of socks, so although I was paranoid over dinner that my foot was going to fall off due to some sort of water-borne infection– the bandage stayed dry.

The random throbbing pain in my foot meant that I didn’t sleep well. But there was wireless internet at the hotel, so I was able to Skype with (both sets of) parents, some friends and surf YouTube until 3AM.

All in all it was a fairly harmless visit necessitated by my own carelessness. Hopefully this will be the only time I need to visit the doctor while in PeaceCorps.