Last night, around 11:00, I left my rolly chair to visit the NASCAR bathroom. Again, pardon the indelicacy of my reference, but while sitting on the toilet, it occurred to me that my hook-toe was not hurting! It was as if I'd forgotten that it was injured altogether! I had walked normally, not favoring the foot, and hadn't noticed any pain to put my thoughts on my injury.
Of course, with the hook-toe on my radar, it hurt when I walked back to my office. Not as much as before. When I took off the bandaid this morning, it had a pinpoint spot as if some blood had leaked out. It felt good, though. Barely like I had impaled my great toe with a mysterious tiny hook, and had needed to twist and wiggle it for removal.
At this writing, I'm thinking that I'm on the mend, and that Farmer H's nursing services won't be required. I'm also thinking that the piece of metal might have come from the unwrapping of the Christmas presents on the
Mystery solved. Injury healing. Farmer H thankfully not involved.