sexy doctor

I’ll drop mine, if you drop yours

In November last year I broke the baby toe on my left foot by hooking it on the protruding leg of the table at the end of the passage.

I didn’t even cry – not due to a lack of pain, but because the pain was so searing that I couldn’t breathe, let alone get a sound out.

Closed shoes were out and so I purchased several pairs of summer slops from PQ [less than 100 bucks for four pairs] to get me through the recovery period.

By the beginning of March the bruising and swelling had finally subsided. Truth be told, I thought I was going to lose the toe. It stayed black, blue and purple for so long that I suspected it wasn’t getting any blood supply.

And what did I do last week, just when I was back in heels? I caught the same bloody toe on the same effing leg of the side table. On St Paddy’s Day. Thank you Murphy.

Poor little toe is now dangling limply against my foot. Thankfully the pain isn’t close to the original break, and there is no bruising whatsoever; however it has swollen to twice its size and once again I can’t wear closed shoes.

That’s a bit difficult when I have to wear water shoes for sailing, rowing and canoeing this weekend – I can’t walk down the jetty barefoot or with slops, so that’s going to be a painful exercise.

And baby toe is not my only woe.

A pilar cyst has made a reappearance on my head, and despite my best efforts to ignore it over the last few months, the nodule has grown and the pressure of the bastard pressing against my skull is giving me headaches.

I had the previous one cut out several years ago – not a major procedure at all – my GP cut it out herself in her rooms. However I was on medical aid at the time, and so I didn’t feel the pinch.

So not only is it going to hurt physically and financially – my biggest dread is the shaving of my head in order for Doc to safely cut a wide circumference around the cyst in order to remove it.

I’m far too vain [especially when it comes to my tresses] to sport a balding spot. And it means that I can’t colour my hair until the stitches have been removed and the wound healed. That could take WEEKS!

But I can’t put it off indefinitely – it progressively growing, and at this rate I’ll be able to attend Halloween parties as a one-horned devil. Not sexy at all.

So I’ve bitten the bullet and made an appointment with Doc for tomorrow morning to have it cut out. And since I’ll be lying on the examining table anyway, I’ve decided to spread my legs for Doc …

… and get the annual pap smear done and dusted too.

And dusting there will be, I’ve been out of action for so long my poor Doc is going to have to wade through the cobwebs.

I’m not looking forward to that procedure either, as two years ago abnormal cells were found and I had to return for a biopsy.

Thankfully the precancerous cells were not cancerous [I don’t understand medicine – really I don’t] but it was an awful scare that I faced alone and it also meant pap smears every 3 months for a year as well as treatment.

So I have a wonderful day off to look forward to tomorrow – head cut open and fanny fiddled with.

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