Derek’s foot is healing wonderfully since his accident, and his leg is all but completely healed up. He walks with a little bit of a limp still, but not much of one at all. You would have no idea anything happened to him if he was wearing socks or shoes! That is such a blessing, and I am truly grateful for it. That being said, there is still a little healing to be done, and will be until next summer, or thereabouts. He still has a few small scabs on the wound area that open up and bleed with just the smallest amount of rubbing against them. Anytime he puts shoes or socks on, he complains…loudly (Derek does EVERYTHING loudly…). For a while, I insisted that he wear shoes and socks anytime we left the house. I wanted him to wear socks just to reduce the amount of rubbing and chaffing, but every time we got home, there would be blood on the sock and he would be complaining that his foot hurt. He would get so mad at me for making him wear footwear! He would cross his arms, scowl, and tell me, “I am not on your team, momma!” I felt bad and was getting frustrated, so I have finally relented and now agree to let him wear a shoe only on his left foot, and let his right foot go bare. I figure, he is only three, and no store manager is going to have an issue with a toddler wearing only one shoe, but if they do, I will just explain the situation and they should be content.
You can still see the scabs on his foot from the accident. They hurt him a lot when they rub up against the side of his shoes or even just wearing socks, so until they are gone, I will allow him to be “Shoeless Joe.”
I have not had a problem with any manager of any store or restaurant, and Derek is thrilled to not endure that pain and discomfort every time he goes out the door. It only makes sense, anyway, because his scabs will never fully heal if they keep getting opened up because of his shoes and socks. All should be well, and for the most part it is, but there is an unintended consequence that only I have to contend with. The problem is that, whenever we go anywhere, some very kind and well-meaning strangers either pull me aside and let me know that my son has lost his shoe, or they will make an off-handed, humorous remark to Derek about his missing shoe. These acts in and of themselves are not a problem. They are not even annoying, as I appreciate the fact that someone notices a potential problem and is willing to inform a mother who obviously has her hands full that something is amiss. What gets me is that I have to explain to these kind people why my son is not wearing his shoe. I have to let them know that several months ago, my son was hit by a car and the accident resulted in two broken bones and a major wound on his foot. The strangers are always surprised and apologetic (unnecessarily, of course), and they offer their condolences. I often chat with them a moment or two about what happened, often resulting in both myself and the stranger getting teary-eyed. After I part from the stranger, I usually sigh heavily and move along. More often than not, I go through this same scenario two or three times while we are out, if not more. By the time we get home, my heart is heavy, and my mood has changed. I am more melancholy and quiet. Derek, of course, is happy and feels so much better not having to pull off a bloody sock and to bandage up an opened wound.
Derek is playing in a waiting room at the doctor’s office. You can see here that he is only wearing one shoe.
It is hard reliving the accident over and over again. I am not upset or angry or even annoyed and the strangers for approaching me, and I am not going to make Derek wear shoes and socks yet just to keep these conversations from happening, but it makes it harder to go out and run errands right now. I am forced to picture my baby, lying twisted up in the middle of the road with the look of fear and shock on his face. I relive that moment of when I walked around the van, not knowing if my son was even alive. It is not debilitating or life-altering in any way, just hard. I wish I didn’t have to picture that moment or to remember that whole week in the hospital. I am starting to wonder if I will ever completely get over my own pain and fear of that day. I am sure I will, but it seems to be taking a long time.
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