Spa Day for Toe(s)

Yes, the title of this post is a little misleading. I had to draw you in somehow, though, and I’m weirdly excited to share news that it’s kind of weird to be excited to share (and also kind of weird in general).

My big toe—the one on my right foot, to be specific—had its second Botox treatment on Tuesday afternoon.

I’m tempted to leave it there and allow you to assume that I decided to get extremely targeted cosmetic surgery on a single appendage. I mean, an appearance-enhancing toe injection isn’t something I’d do, but I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I might. Rest assured, however, that this truly was a medical procedure: Botox to help correct a stubborn body part, not Botox to enhance the aesthetic appeal of said part.

I had the first round of toe treatment near the end of my most recent hospital stay, and it was pretty effective. I’m no (medical) doctor, but my understanding is that the Botox is shot straight into a nerve, relaxes the toe that that nerve is connected to, and makes the toe chill the frick out. This particular toe curls in a manner that exacerbates my foot drop, so forcing it to straighten up, if only by a little, is a good thing.

One of the problems with the injection is that its results are time-limited, hence round two. Another problem is that although this is—I feel the need to repeat—a medical procedure, it requires preapproval since … since it’s Botox, I guess? I can’t imagine very many people try to scam their extended insurance into removing toe wrinkles, but stranger things have happened.

Some metaphorical insurance wrinkles meant that I had to wait longer than I should have for this second round of injections. The silver lining of the delay is that it confirmed that the Botox had indeed made a difference; as it wore off, my toe slowly started curling again, Wicked Witch of the West–style. With any luck, this treatment will coax it back into a more convenient position.

The procedure itself went well. It was done by the same physiatrist who performed it the last time around, and she was as kind and considerate as it’s possible to be when jabbing a needle into someone’s nerve and pumping it full of what’s technically poison. I’d managed to forget how painful it was, and I say that as someone with masochistic and misguided pride in her ability to handle discomfort. My husband, who was in the room at Botox time, commented while we were on our way home that my whole body involuntarily clenched up as I made small talk with the doctor and tried to ignore what she was doing. A small price to pay.

The doctor targeted a few more toes than she did in February, so there’s even more potential for positive change. I already have an appointment made for round three. I’m super grateful to have access to this treatment, especially during this phase of steadily increasing functionality. Given its success, I can’t help but wonder if something similar could relax my ever-spasming thoughts. Botox for the brain, anyone?