They call me Dr. Sister...

March 14, 2010
One day, Darshan came running to me, blood flowing freely exposing raw skin on the tip of one of his toes. Now, the kids are always asking me for “handi-plus,” the Nepali equivalent of a Band-aid, and 90% of the time I’d need a microscope to see the wound (or, “oond” as they can’t say wound!). Well, not seeing the trail of blood running from the driveway through the front door and up the stairs, I quickly asked “Now Darshan, let me see the blood and I’ll give you a Band-aid,” assuming it was another pin prick for which the best remedy is “toughen up, kiddo!” “Sister, Look!” he said with a painful grin spreading across his strong face. I looked down, and was pretty sure I was going to vomit. I immediately steered him out onto the porch, grabbed my roll of athletic tape, some alcohol swabs, and the Neosporin. I gently cleaned the wound and bandaged it as best I could. He hobbled back down the stairs, cleaning the evidence as he went!

A few days later, Arun came to me the same way, with a similar “oond” on his toe. I thought it was odd, but the kids all wear sandals pretty much always, so I figured the boys had just forgotten how to walk. So, we went through the process of cleaning it and bandaging it, and he sadly had to just watch all the other boys play and have fun later that afternoon.

Well, Manisha thought it was hilarious that Arun had hurt his toe and couldn’t quite walk right and was hobbling around. Remember, this is Arun who flies up and down the stairs and is always running somewhere! For him to be gingerly creeping up and down the stairs was quite the contrast, and in her opinion worthy of definite ridicule! Well, the same day that he injured his toe, she was racing to straighten all the shoes so she could get back into the TV room to watch with the other kids and she shut the door over her toe. Not even kidding. A huge chunk of toe was left on the unforgiving door and she cried out in pain. This is where my horrible parenting skills come in: I burst out laughing. Blood is beginning to pool and threatening to drip on the carpet, so I sent her upstairs to clean it and wait for me while I tried to get myself under control. Fortunately, the other kids (Manisha included) thought this was God’s sense of humor punishing her for teasing Arun too much! So, I cleaned and bandaged her toe, and she began life as a hobbling gimp.

I’m sure you’ve figured out the pattern now. I walked outside one day to see Laxman sitting on the ground, a pained expression etched onto his face as the other kids stood around, with smiles on their faces. Looking down, I saw his toe was torn open and blood was spilling over onto the concrete ground. With confused laughter, I told him not to move, and I ran up and grabbed my tape and supplies (thankfully I’m hyper-prepared for a medical emergency and had a hospital’s supply of everything with me!) and ran back downstairs. Well, this time I really dug in to find out how these “oonds” were all popping up suddenly. I mean, maybe it was the new Nepali style to injure one toe and walk around with it taped or something (not that anyone could see the “oond” with the school shoes on anyway, though!). Laxman said that it was due to football (soccer in America), and I asked how suddenly football had caused so many injuries. He said it just did, which didn’t satisfy me, so I began to investigate further.

My final piece of evidence was Shiva. I was out watching them play football in the driveway, and he went to kick the ball, and his sandal got caught on the ground, bending back and allowing his toe to intimately meet the unforgiving concrete below, causing a mass of torn flesh and a pool of blood to flow. “Don’t move!” I told him, and I ran up to grab my supplies and came back to fix his toe. Having finally discovered the true cause of the toe injuries, I did what any good parent would do- I made a new rule. “You are NOT allowed to play football without tennis shoes, which every single one of you have upstairs! If I catch you playing without good shoes on, I’ll take the ball and not let you play anymore!” “But sister, this is the best time for us to play, because we now know we have a doctor living with us, so if we get hurt, you’ll fix us!” Laxman protested. “No discussion. Either put on your tennis shoes or don’t play.” Sullenly the boys walked the two flights up the stairs to their room, complaining that having to put on their tennis shoes was wasting valuable football time. I told them that they’re lazy.

Since then I’ve checked on them every now and then, and they’re smart enough to wear their tennis shoes now when they play. Guess they know that I’ll seriously take their ball and not let them play if they’re not! And I haven’t had any more toe fashion statements in the last week or so, but I figure as the kids got injured in order from youngest to oldest, there’s no one older than Shiva to get hurt. It’s not often that a 10 year old sets the trend for his 14, 15 and 16 year old brothers (along with his sister!). That said, if you ever rip the skin off your toe jaggedly leaving blood and dirt dancing in its place, I’m there. I’ll fix you up, give you a good scolding for not wearing tennis shoes, and then send you back out to play (or hobble!) with a smile :).