My foot’s been doing this weird thing lately where every time I move it, the nerves on the top go all haywire and jangly on me. It’s really uncomfortable. And I’m pretty sure it was caused by the bandage being wrapped too freaking tight around the middle of my foot.
So, last night, a combination of my jangly nerves and the extreme discomfort that came from walking inspired me to very stupidly take off the bandage to see what the eff was going on down there.
O, lamentable curiosity.
I feel like I’ve got prop makeup on, it’s so revolting. I feel sorry for my foot; how could I let the medical community abuse it for my own vanity (if you must know, internet, I had some plantar warts removed)? There are open wounds on my foot, and I’m walking on them. Disgusting, gaping, red and dark brown, sore, open wounds. And I have to walk on them! What was I thinking?!
So then I fell asleep and dreamed that my foot morphed into a pus-filled, knotted, infected mass of discolored skin and gauze, and that I kept limping around, looking for my mom to help me figure out what I had done wrong (duh, I had removed the doctor’s bandage before it was time) and to help me fix it if possible, but I kept having to yell over and around people, some of whom I had not seen in a long time and were just trying to give me hugs before they moved to Chattanooga.
Ok, let me be the one to get the obvious out of the way.
“I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.”
That sucks. Feel better.
Hee hee. One of my New Year’s resolutions was to write more things that made people feel sick.