NOTE: This story is part of “Together/Alone,” a column from Spectrum News Chief National Political Reporter Josh Robin that explores life during the COVID-19 pandemic.

I didn’t want to write this. I’m really not into over-sharing. But there’s that old saying: “Write what you know.”

And I know my toes. 

What I don’t know is if my toes are telling me I had COVID-19.

I know my toes well enough to know frostbite generally doesn’t appear in May. But here they were the other day, six out of the ten, rather suddenly sporting red, shiny discolorations. They didn’t hurt much; maybe a bit achy. 

I don’t want to come off as crass, writing about my toes when I feel fine, when more people are dead from this cursed plague in the United States alone than all our soldiers killed in the Vietnam War — all while we may be looking at another depression. 

But everywhere people are asking the same questions: Do I have it? Did I have it? And if I did have it, does it even matter?

So here is a dispatch on the latest eccentric marker of this virus: reddish, blueish toes. Like lost sense of smell, “COVID toe” is a real thing. People are even flocking to their dermatologists.

“All of a sudden, we are inundated with toes,” one doctor told The New York Times' Roni Caryn Rabin.

Confused at the hue the other day, I did what you’re supposed to do in such cases: I consulted my wife and the internet. Or, in this case, I consulted my wife after she’d consulted the internet. 

Was it COVID-19? 

 
A teenage patient's foot as pictured on April 3, 2020, at the onset of the skin condition being informally called "COVID toes." (Dr. Amy Paller, Northwestern University)

A study from Spain found these lesions appeared weeks after more traditional symptoms. No one is sure why -- perhaps they’re like hives, or tiny blood clots. They aren’t thought to be serious; if anything, they signal the virus’ effects are about done.

But how would I have gotten COVID-19? 

I live in New York City, but the most I felt was a bit of a cough and sore throat in mid-March, a long time ago, which I chalked up then to stress draining my immune system.

I haven’t been in any kind of prolonged contact with anyone outside my family for seven weeks. When I get groceries, I wear a mask. I wiped down packages with 409 spray — at least at first, before I concluded washing my hands after opening them is just as effective. 

But those toes sure looked like the COVID toes I was seeing online. So I did the second thing you do in such a situation: text someone you know who is a doctor, which in my case wasn’t hard.

I sent six pictures of my feet to my sister.

“It could be from biking,” I wrote. 

“I’ll look into it,” she replied.

Then I texted my brother. He’s a psychiatrist. I figured I’d cover all the bases. Soon enough my dad, who is an endocrinologist, and my mom, who is a nurse, were looking at pictures of my feet; before the week was out I had my in-laws, also psychiatrists, looking in, figuring I’d just flood the zone.

Oh, I also asked my accountant to send me pictures of his toes, because he got sick with COVID-19, and five weeks after his first symptoms appeared, his toes turned shiny and red. 

Two minutes after I texted, pics of my accountant’s foot landed in my WhatsApp.

For the most part, all the M.D.s in my family seemed really interested in the condition; maybe it’s doctors’ natural scientific inquisitiveness and impulse to heal. Maybe we are all looking for a closer glimpse of how this global malady manifests itself. 

Maybe we are all just bored.

My brother seemed particularly taken, texting me all kinds of toe questions, hungry for potential immunity, even if the experts aren’t sure of its effectiveness. 

Me: “Are you jealous of me? Do you want to have Covid Toes?” 

Brother: “Sure. Yeah, why not? Although I also was encouraged because I had that weird toe thing. It looked like a very small version of your accountant's toes."

I won’t bore you with what each doctor/relative thinks. An infectious disease specialist my sister asked summed it up best: “God only knows.”

Indeed.

I was told I would be a good candidate for testing — but unless a doctor thinks I ought to, then I’m not going. Because what’s the point? Even if I had the virus, I may get it again. So for now, I’m doing what Dr. Fauci tells us, practicing social distancing. 

But if my reddened toes can’t tell me for sure whether I contracted COVID, they are teaching me something about our quick mortal existence. And I hope you’ll forgive the jump, so to speak, to this weighty topic. 

Sometimes we do know something and sometimes we don’t know. If uncertainty whispered before, it’s surely screaming now. 

We don’t know a lot about what comes next, doncha’ think?

Now, life’s inherent ambiguity could tailspin you into a panic. Or you could embrace  or at least accept what’s intrinsic in life: that we sometimes, often times, just do not know.

To do that, to acknowledge uncertainty, requires humility, the second thing this whole toe thing taught me. 

I’ve found it doesn’t take much to puncture humanity’s ample self-confidence. All you need for a global comeuppance are a virus so small, 900 particles can fit side to side on a single strand of human hair. 

Lesson learned, COVID. For now at least. I know now that I don’t know a lot. And I’m slowly getting more comfortable with that.

But I do know a few things: my toes are slightly less red, perhaps a bit more purple, getting back to normal — and I’m not sick, thank God or science or luck or whatever. 

These feet are going for a walk — making sure I stay 6 feet clear of anyone.

Sanity Clause

Mary Neely’s Broadway tributes. Ensconced alone in her Los Angeles apartment complex, Neely has transformed Broadway show tunes into riveting one-person lip syncs, replete with makeshift costumes, homespun set design — even character changes. There’s Hamilton. The Music Man. West Side Story.  South Pacific. Les Misérables. And more. Before quarantine struck, she was best known as an actor for commercials (like Tide Pods). Now she’s an internet star whose creativity and wit provides us with a needed dose of escape. Brava! 

Trapped Parent Tip

Teachers. It’s Teacher Appreciation Week! Teaching is not an easy job; teaching when you’re home, juggling your own personal responsibilities and fears, futzing with the technology, must be downright exhausting. Bringing a gift to class is out, but a heartfelt email, perhaps written with your kid, I’m sure would be appreciated — as would, if possible, a donation to the PTA.