What it's like to have a truck roll over your foot

Editorial note: I wrote this in July 2006 -- the day after the incident occurred. Just saving it here for posterity. Lovely memories!

Yesterday, a friend of mine -- let's just call him Brian -- drove his truck over my foot.

Now, let's get this into perspective.

He didn't mean to do it. Naturally, he would never do anything like that on purpose. I mean -- we're FRIENDS, for crimineeee sakes. Friends don't do things like that on purpose. If Brian had known I was standing that close to his truck, he certainly would not have begun moving forward. I mean, he didn't AIM for my foot or anything like that. It was an accident.

And another thing.

I'm not stupid. I'm not the kind of gal who likes to have her foot driven on. Common sense, by all rights, should be dependable enough to kick in and tell me that if I place my foot near the tire of a vehicle, I stand a chance of getting my foot run over.

It's not like I did it on purpose. And, no, I wasn't looking for attention or drama or anything like that. Sheeeeesh.

Nevertheless, there ya have it.

I was standing too close, Brian didn't realize how close I was standing, I didn't realize he was putting the truck in gear and moving forward. I felt an odd sensation on my foot, and about half-way through the episode, I realized that Brian was driving his truck slowly over my foot.

I didn't move or scream or anything like that. I gasped, I think. Who wouldn't?

Then I said, "HEY! You just drove your truck over my foot!"

Brian was appalled.

His jaw dropped open and he had that "you-gotta-be-kidding" look all over his face.

I giggled inanely (as I'm apt to do anyway, under any circumstance). What struck me funny was that I didn't seem to be injured. I could walk, I could talk, I could do math. All seemed well with the world.

Yeah, it stung a bit, but I assume that's to be expected when one's foot is run over by one's friend's truck.

I started to tell Brian about the time I got my foot stuck in an exercise bicycle when I was 11 years old. I never finished the story, though, because he turned on a book-on-CD recording, so I stopped talking. No biggie... it was only one of the most traumatic episodes of my young life.

Last evening...

I put ice on my foot as I watched a movie. ("Mrs. Henderson Presents." A cute movie!) I noticed a little puffiness and numbness, but no pain, and no problems walking.

This morning...

I woke up with weird bruisy-looking marks on the top of my foot. There's some puffiness still. I'll probably put ice on it again this evening.

As you can see in the photograph above, I need a pedicure badly. The white stripes across my foot are from the flip-flops I wear all the time. My feet and toes are tan -- THAT'S NOT DIRT! And those weird red marks are -- you guessed it -- tire tracks.

Brian called this morning to see how I was doing and find out how my foot is. Pretty nice of him, don't you think?

So... that's it. That's the story of when my friend drove over my foot with his truck.

The End.

Karen