After limping around for over three weeks with an ever increasingly infected and swollen toe, last night I took matters into my own hands and removed a small corner of my big toe's nail, including a portion attached to nailbed. Owie. My suspicions were correct--I simply had one bastard of an ingrown toenail. It hurts slightly today, but feels far better than it has in weeks. In fact, I just got done punishing my treadmill with 6 miles of kickass speed intervals (I know I should have run outdoors on a gorgeous night like tonight, but I didn't want to get 2 miles from home and realize my toe felt like it was going to fall off).
Why not go to the doctor? Let's see...pay a $20 copay, waste probably 3 hours of an afternoon, taking time away from work, only to have him...cut off a corner of my toenail to remove the ingrown portion. I know what I'm doing. My track record with this toe is long and sordid, and long ago a doctor removed 2 portions of the nail permanently, scraping the root from the bone (it wasn't painful but fucking unsettling as all hell) to mitigate the risk of further ingrown nails. This is the first such nasty ingrown business I've dealt with in probably 10 or 15 years.
So now I'm footloose, fancy free, and am so upbeat that I could almost smile at a child. But I won't.
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