First off--Here, here, Micky! Your comment on my last post was right on. I am incredibly thankful for Jeff. I almost deleted that post because I saw that my gratitude didn't come across at all. His sweetness in saving up his "fun money" to spend on me and the kids is a testament to how wonderful of a husband and dad he is. He himself regrets the fondue excursion for the very reasons I shared with you all. Had he been pleased with it, it wouldn't have even occurred to me to type up a post snickering about it.
Now...on to yesterday: I went to see my doctor because my nasal spray prescription needed to be renewed. After the blood pressure test, etc., he noticed my foot's "sixth toe".
"What is that?" he asked
I glanced at his name tag to check for the letters M.D. and replied, "It's a wart."
"That's coming off," he announced and quickly exited the room. As the door closed behind him, I heard him holler out to one of the nurses, "Where's the gun?"
Uhh...gun? Maybe the wart's not...so...bad.
He soon returned with something that looked like a mini blow torch and proceeded to blast my foot with all the power of the arctic that was somehow trapped inside. Although the physical sensation was far less than pleasant, I mentioned to him that I also had some tiny warts on my hand.
As he frigidly banished those little guys, he schooled me on warts and how they spread. Perhaps he was a bit too "into" this impromptu lecture 'cause I think he overdid it on my hand. I can't quite bring myself to post the photos I took last night (once in cyberspace always in cyberspace), but trust me, I think he would have warned me if he expected it to turn into that freakish mass.
Immediately after the treatment, it just looked a little splotchy, but over the next 6 hours, it turned bright red and swelled up like a balloon. I could literally feel my skin stretching as the area filled with liquid-nastiness. I feared it would burst while I was making dinner, splattering the chicken and veggies, rendering them inedible. (Sorry, I guess I should have typed up a disclaimer at the top of this page.)
"Are you really going to youth group tonight with your hand like that?" Jeff asked, dubiously.
"Sure," I said. "Maybe it'll help some awkward teen feel better about some embarrassing aspect of their own body."
Perhaps I'll never know if an adolescent now feels empowered to face the world after catching sight of my afflicted appendage, but...it was a good conversation piece.
No comments:
Post a Comment