A Wart?! Pshaw…

I’ve had lots of warts that have come and gone, but one stands out in my memory (and my foot!) so much, that I’ll never forget it. It was the Summer of  2014 when my left foot grew a bump beneath my pinkie toe. At first, I wasn’t too worried. I’d dealt with warts before, so why should this one be a problem? Boy, was I wrong.

Once school started, the once smooth little hill at the bottom of my foot had grown both inward and outward, showing objects that looked curiously like octopus legs. My father, who was a very capable engineer and loved to take out splinters like he was dissecting a frog, asked me more than twice to let him yank out the tentacles of terror. I refused wholeheartedly and requested acid patches which I had used before to great success. They did nothing whatsoever.

My mother, who was disgusted by the black-and-blue alien wart, suggested that we go to the doctor. For the first month and a half, I declined. As my little friend grew more painful however, I agreed. A week later, the day a the appointment arrived, and, holding my mother’s hand tightly, I walked into the doctor’s office.

Dr. Kropp was perfectly calm and (as I recall) always had a smile on her face.She gave me options for what I could do with my wart (which was now about the size of a girl’s pinkie fingernail). I could either let the doctors deal with it, which guaranteed needle poking and rummaging through my wart, or go home, bathe my foot in a bath of epsom salts and shave it regularly with a file. Naturally, I chose the latter.

When my mother and I got home, (along with my brother who had mainly come for doughnuts that we got after the appointment) we did just what the doctor suggested. After about a fortnight of bathing and shaving my wart, it disappeared! Maybe its soul left my body to invade someone else, or maybe it missed its home town and went back to whatever planet it came from. All I know, is that no wart will ever take me down. Not without a fight, that is.


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