I assumed something similar. At one stage I had Gas Cylinder Toe. I managed to drop a full 9kg gas cylinder on my big toe (9kg gas +10kg cylinder). It smashed/mashed the end bone of my big toe. Couldn't strap it or put a cast on it. Just had to wait until it healed.
A long time ago, in a different century I had a Vertebrate Zoology lecturer who had Spade Fingers. They were long, and wide, and flattened at the end, and just looked incredibly clumsy. However watching him do delicate dissections was an education in itself about not making assumptions based on appearances.
Ever done the walking into a full suitcase having emerged from the shower (blind and blinking, wearing nothing, not even your glasses) as you head into the bedroom, not fully focussed on your physical surroundings, because you are thinking about the election you are in that country to observe, yet witlessly assuming that, just because you can walk into a suitcase fully shod without suffering any injury or ill effect, the consequences of walking into a (stuffed) suitcase while strolling barefoot will be equally harmless?
That toe hurt - I recall seeing stars - the spinning, twinkling sort - before my eyes.
Now, normally, such matters - a bruised and battered toe - would cease and desist from bothering me with inconvenient pain within half an hour or so.
On that occasion, unfortunately, it didn't.
Two days later, I was still limping (thankfully, the election observation mission - I was there in a senior capacity - had put a BMW X5 - plus driver and interpreter/PA - at my disposal, which meant I walked, or rather was able to walk, a lot less than usual, and my driver was wonderfully helpful), and closer examination revealed a digit that was an ominous blue/black/purple colour, and remained such a fetching shade for, oh, several days.
Anyway, I didn't like what the online world told me such things could mean; I mean, the idea of being medivacced home - for a broken toe - when I was supposed to be in situ observing an election in a senior capacity for the following few months just didn't bear thinking about.
And so, I held my tongue, hobbled gamely from a (large, comfortable) vehicle to whatever meetings I had to attend for a few days, until my normal gait was restored.
