Big toes and big feelings

I wasn’t sure how to rate this piece. It’s about something that happened to my Dad this time last year… Something that I still can’t quite believe! This made it a bit of a ‘sip and digest’ piece to write (but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a ‘sip and digest’ piece to read). Either way - it’s longer than normal, so perhaps best paired with a cup of tea on the sofa (by the Christmas tree!).

One of the curiously strong genetic traits in my family (aside from big heads and big ribs), is a very recognisable big toe. It’s sort of wide and chunky, with a very rectangularly shaped nail*. Did this toe give us an evolutionary advantage? Unclear. All I know is that when seven pairs of Howes family feet are lined up next to each other, you can barely tell anyone apart…

Anyway, last year, my dad spotted something on this famously familial big toe. Or rather a podiatrist spotted this thing. A black line under the nail - which could be this very rare thing - this very unlikely thing - although you should probably still get it checked out.

So, Dad went to see a dermatologist. By this point, the black line had faded slightly. Could it just be a fungal infection? Or an injury to the nail bed? The dermatologist had only ever seen one case of this thing in her 25-year career. However, given the very high risks, it was worth doing the painful procedure to biopsy it.

By the time Dad told us about this potential thing, and this horrible biopsy, it all seemed so entirely unlikely. Just a good thing to check! Better safe than sorry! Nothing to worry about. Until a week later, while I was on a train back to London, and Dad confirmed that the thing was the thing. A malignant subungual melanoma. Something that is so often missed - and therefore so often fatal.

The good news was it had been caught early. It was in its early stages (‘in-situ’) and luckily, they could operate on Dad before Christmas (a grisly procedure of removing the entire nail bed right down to the bone, and replacing it with a skin graft from his hip). However, while they weren’t doing a full amputation, there was no guarantee that the operation would successfully remove all the melanoma. More tests would be needed.

Good news!? But a melanoma…. but caught early! But a type of cancer?! Surely not!?

Once, in a physics class at school, the teacher asked two students to put their hands in different containers of water. In one container, the water was about 15 degrees. In the other, it was about 5 degrees. How does the water feel? She asked. Cold! They both agreed. Thirty seconds later, she asked the students to swap containers. How does it feel now? She asked again. This time they disagreed. Warmer said one. Colder said the other…. And that’s often where I am. The water always feels warmer. Even when it’s objectively still cold.

By the time I pulled into Kings Cross, I didn’t know what to feel. But then I was moving again. Kings Cross to Whitechapel. Whitechapel to Brockley. Drink with a friend. Brockley to Canada Water. Canada Water to Tooting. Dinner with Henry and some friends. Tooting to Streatham Hill. Streatham Hill to bed.

The following morning, I woke up angsty and agitated.

Was it weird that I said that thing last night? I whispered into Henry’s ear as he lay sleeping. Do you think I was good company? I whispered more loudly, as Henry slowly opened his eyes. Did I seem normal to you? But are you sure?

After Henry had run out of ways to reassure me that yes it was a lovely evening, and yes, I was great company (the best company!), my thoughts turned to the more practical matter of when I needed to book my train home to look after Dad. After the procedure, he would need to be horizontal for at least six weeks. We needed to figure out which sibling would come home when.

It was in the checking of diaries on the family group chat that I thought to ask when our family friend - who’d been staying in my room for a few months between tenancies - was leaving for Christmas. Isn’t it around the 20^th December? I asked. No… I think she might be staying a bit later now, Ned replied. Yeah, I just checked, she said 24^th December…

And it was this very small (much less serious) discovery – of not going home to my childhood bedroom – that stopped all the moving and the thinking and finally started the crying.

It was all cold. Horribly cold. And yes, maybe it would be ok in the end. Maybe it was warmer than when Mum was ill. But Dad could so easily have missed this - and then it would have been catastrophically freezing. Because then we would have no parents left. Surely that can’t happen!? Surely we’ve had our bad thing happen to us?!

This realisation that bad things can still happen, even if bad things have happened before, was too much to handle. The crying stopped as quickly as it had started and all I could do was fold myself onto Henry’s tiny sofa (too tiny for a fully horizontal position) and close my eyes. I felt frozen. Completely zapped of energy.

Henry was gentle and quiet. He made more tea and toast. He let me have all the pillows to try and make the uncomfortable sofa a little less uncomfortable. He put on the TV so I could watch the Misadventures of Romesh Ranganathan (the episode where Romesh goes to the Hebrides in Scotland).

While Romesh practiced sheep shearing, I told myself that Christmas would still feel like Christmas with or without my room. I’d spend most of my time in the sitting room with the Christmas tree anyway! Who even needs a bedroom! And just because I would be sharing with a brother, I would absolutely be the one to get the bed. That’s definitely the fairest way to do things…

This reassuring internal monologue, combined with Romesh’s gentle patter, slowly warmed me up. By the end of the show, the horrible realisation that bad things can still happen, became fuzzy again (like a lot of griefy truths are). It would all be ok wouldn’t it. Surely it would. And Tom would absolutely be the one sleeping on the floor…

In the end, it was all ok and Dad is ok, (and I did get a bed!).

Just before we piled into the car to drive to my aunts on Christmas eve, Dad got an email from the surgeon confirming the margins on his toe were all clear. And just like that – the nightmare was over (although not for dad who still had to be horizontal for two months**…)

Maybe it was because we had our bad thing happen, that this good thing happened. Maybe without it, the podiatrist would never have spotted that black line… (oh how the brain loves fuzzy truths and wishful thinking).

I’ve felt a bit stand-offish about this whole piece. Mostly because I still can’t fathom anything happening to my dad. It’s prickly. But I hope this wasn’t too prickly to read about.

I also hope you all have a wonderful Christmas

Xxxx

*When you only ever see your own big toe, it’s quite hard to know how it’s different from other toes. Luckily, I was helped by some surreptitious gawping at toes in a yoga class last week (although I’m sure my description just sounds like a big toe – I promise you it’s recognisable!)

**And even more weeks then was planned. Poor dad sprained his ankle the week after getting back on his feet (with second degree muscle tears!!). Absolutely terrible timing. Luckily this year he can enjoy his mince pies sitting up 😊

P.s I never ever googled ‘Subungual Melanoma’ (until now!). All I knew was it was how Bob Marley died. You can find out more about this rare type of melanoma here.