Toe Wars

Or, My Left Foot (the Horror Story)

Last summer, I made the mistake of taking a discount cruise on the Walmart of the Seas. Well, okay, the ship was actually named the Explorer of the Seas, but when we got aboard we were horrified to see that it was populated by the People of Walmart. Unfortunately, the most lasting souvenir I picked up on that tropical cruise was a foot rash.

My unsuspecting toes enjoying a relaxing moment by the pool.

I've never had a foot rash before, so I guess I just assumed, like most rashes, it would eventually fade away. Several months later, it was still camped out on the toes of my left foot. So in the early fall, I dragged myself in to see the doctor, who gave me a prescription for MUPIROCIN 2%. This was an antibacterial cream. There was only one problem with that. I did not have foot bacteria; I had a foot fungus. So after a month of using this cream with no results, disgusted, I called my homeopath. By now, the rash was such a familiar feature on my left foot that I named it Melvin. It was a dysfunctional relationship; I wanted Melvin out of my life.

I'd never had a rash last so long, so it made me feel old and depressed. Why was Melvin making my life so miserable? What did I ever do to deserve this scourge on my left foot?

Winter was closing in as I spoke with my homeopath of 25-plus years. She is perhaps one of the most brilliant human beings on this planet and has never let me down, regardless of my niddling complaints. We spoke by Skype and she said the cause of any continuous rash was twofold. My body was not fighting it well and the topical eruption also needed to be addressed. It had to be battled inside and out. She gave me a constitutional remedy to bolster my immune system and diminish any tendencies toward yeast and other internal infections. Then she recommended I use Dr. Hauschka's organic Neem oil on the rash.

This ship's painting turned out to be a depiction of my foot rash.

In Chinese medicine, the belief is that the longer a cure takes, the better it is. So I try to be patient when using natural remedies. A few months later, I observed that the natural remedies shrank the rash considerably, but did not get rid of it. Instead of applying Neem oil once a day, I decided to apply it morning and evening and the rash actually disappeared. Unfortunately, thrilled it was gone, I stopped treating it with Neem oil and a week later Melvin was back.

As winter turned to spring, I decided to do some research of my own to see if there was something I could do in addition to my current Neem oil regimen that would tip the scales and chase Melvin out of town.

First the inside: To further boost my immune system, I began juicing vegetables every morning. This had the added benefit of making me feel more energetic. Next, the rash: I tried a variation of a remedy that appeared over and over in my research. People with skin problems often convalesced near the ocean to bathe in seawater with very positive effects. However, I could not afford to spend a month by the sea. Instead, I reasoned, why not soak my left foot for a half hour every morning in Epsom salts? It was also recommended that after your foot was soaked that you dry it with a hair dryer to make sure the skin was not damp. After that, I added the Neem oil.

So I did this for one week. Something I didn't realize—although I should have since it is clearly stated on all packages of Epsom salts—is that it is a natural laxative. After one very uncomfortable week, I had to stop soaking my foot. However, during that unpleasant period, something magical happened. My foot rash disappeared!

That was two weeks ago. I am still coating my toes every morning and evening in Neem oil, but have not seen a sign of Melvin since then and I believe he finally hit the road.

Thus, ends my cautionary tale of Walmart cruises, bare feet and fungal co-dependence. May you never suffer the same.

Tenacious G Descends into the Bowels of Wal*Mart

I don’t mean to sound self-righteous, but one store I vowed I would never enter in this lifetime was Wal*Mart.

Without going into gory details, Wal*Mart has been accused of operating in a way that increases government welfare spending, contributes to suburban sprawl, uses predatory pricing to drive local mom-and-pop stores out of business, decreases employment in both retail and manufacturing while lowering the wages in both sectors, and increases our tendency to consume natural resources that we do not need. They are one of the largest companies in the world and behave like the bully on the playground.

Multigenerational portrait: Grandma, aka Tenacious G, stands at the right.

So when I picked up my saintly mother for our weekly romp, the last thing I expected was that she would guide our car into the bowels of retail hell. This sweet, gray-haired woman, somehow sensing that Wal*Mart would be an issue, told me that she couldn’t remember the name of the store she wanted to visit but would give me driving directions on how to get there. When those directions led into the parking lot of Wal*Mart, I recoiled in sociopolitical horror. I have no doubt that my late father, a lifelong union man, was spinning in his grave like a Roto-Rooter® drill.

“Why here?!” I exclaimed aghast as we circled the overfull parking lot for 15 minutes. A Mercedes Benz sports coup cut me off for one space.

“I want to buy a blouse,” she replied.

“You want to buy a shoddy blouse made in a third-world factory where someone lost his arm due to hazardous working conditions?”

She laughed. Oh, how silly her daughter was.

Finally, I found a space a few miles away from the front door. It was a hot day and it would be a long and soul-searching walk across the searing, pot-holed pavement to the entrance. I clutched my elderly mother’s arm as we tried to cross the street to the front door and were cut off by a minivan. Normally, at other retail locations, people have slowed down to let my mother cross at her tottering tortoise pace. Not the people of Wal*Mart.

The electric doors swished aside and the welcome air conditioning greeted us. The store was filthy. It looked like it hadn’t been swept or mopped since President Nixon was forced to resign from office. And it was huge. As far as the eye could see, flimsy merchandise was displayed in aisle after sloppy aisle.

I had entered the bowels of Wal*Mart. I felt dirty.

My mother began to look at the brightly colored, tissue-thin shirts that lolled haphazardly on the unkempt racks. One was a halter top fashioned from large, wooden beads. I suggested it might give her a new look. She was amused. Most of what we saw was in very large sizes and bright enough to light up Times Square at midnight.

 Photos from the very informative

www.PeopleofWalmart.com website.

Mom shuffled around and didn’t see anything she really wanted but was very excited that they were offering this hideous apparel for $11.97 and less. Admittedly, things were insanely cheap here, but for merchandise that would rightfully get you tarred and feathered on What Not to Wear.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a clothes snob. I’m not saying you can’t go discount. There are a ton of discount retail stores that carry great stuff and I am a real fan of clearance racks. But there is a difference between a bargain and a piece of unmitigated crap. My mother soon came to this realization. A Depression child, she was loath to walk away without purchasing something that was unbeatably cheap, but even she had to admit that there was nothing to see here.

Eventually, we walked out and made our slow and precarious way back to the car. I told my mother I would take her to another, less colonic store and informed her that, as a result of this visit, I would need a long, long shower upon returning home.