The agony of the feet.

Any diabetic will tell you — your feet are a big deal. Prolonged elevated blood sugars damage your nerve endings and your circulatory system. Your feet, being located where they are on your body, are most vulnerable. Step on a crack and your momma's back is the least of your worries. A scrape, cut, corn and any number of maladies that you'd normally just ignore could pave the way to amputation.

Wow, that is a scary word, isn't it? Amputation. I always think of soldiers in the Civil War, where field doctors would say, "I cain't do nothing for you, son – Henry, git the saw!" It truly is serious stuff and one of the most common results of having diabetes. Because your nerve endings can be damaged, you can lose feeling in your extremities. An injury could go unnoticed because you don't feel it and can quickly become infected. Every visit to the doctor should be accompanied by a foot exam. Not only do they look for cuts and scrapes, they run a tiny plastic thing up and down the bottom of your foot to make sure you haven't lost any feeling there.

So, no more barefootin' it around in the grass. I always wear slippers or flip-flops around the house. I have dogs and they are notorious for leaving a chew toy in the hallway. A nighttime trip to the bathroom is like walking through a field of landmines, just waiting to be stepped upon. I may be lax about many things when it comes to managing my diabetes, but my feet are not one of them. I religiously use heel cream and wear shoes all of the time.

Here's my favorite foot story. It happened a couple of years ago.

I had two cats, Nip and Tuck. It was a warm summer evening and I had the front door  opened to let the breeze in. A neighborhood cat came and sat upon my stoop. Tuck, my female cat, went crazy. Shrieking and hissing as only cats do. Nip, the male, couldn't have cared less, but Tuck was having a fit. I went over to shut the front door and simultaneously reached out with my foot to shove her away. She, being not the brightest bulb, reached over and bit me. Sunk her teeth in to the meat of my right foot. Two puncture wounds right on the top. It hurt like crazy. She looked up at me as if to say, "hey — you're not that other cat..." I hopped around and went to the bathroom where I carefully cleaned the bite and put some anti-bacterial cream on it. It immediately started swelling and the next day I could barely get a shoe on. I called the doctor's office as soon as they opened and told the prescribing nurse what had happened. She said, "oh I'm sure that you've done the best thing, but let me ask doctor." By the way, when did they stop saying THE doctor? I hate it when things like this change and I have no idea why or when it happened.

Five minutes later she called me and told me that they had called in an anti-biotic. See, doctor knew. You don't mess around with the feet.