This Is Not The Time To Quit

Yes, just keep telling myself that, I said to myself. What's a little pain? Look at what Thor had to endure. No----wait---- maybe I'm thinking about his silly voice. Hmm. Oh, well, I did once have a Thor some, but I digress (when don't I?) What? Who, me? Oh. OK, I've just been told to get this post back on track or go home for the day (which doesn't sound like such a bad choice, actually.) But, whatever.

The doggies are a bit better, improving veeeeerrrrryyyyyy sllllooooowwwwwwllllllyyyy. And I'm doing the whole nine yards - soaks, analgesics, creams, massage, Acme safes from a great height. I've even forced myself to watch golf on TV - not quite as numbing as watching paint dry, but close. Really close. And really trying to keep the pain meds at an extreme minimum - don't like they way they make me suddenly enjoy watching Oprah reruns (shudder).

On other fronts, I recently made the acquaintance of a new clubbie - three months old, now. Dos piedes clubbo (bilateral, if you must know!) Cute (redundant when speaking of babies, unless you are George Castanza, I suppose.) The Mommy was freaked when she first got the news (is it just me, or do sonograms make you long for the Dark Ages when you had to wait for the actual arrival? It is? Oh.) But I reassured her to not worry, her kid would grow up to be the president of something anyway, which given how badly we treat presidents these days may not be much reassurance. I also told her to buy shares in some guy named Maddoff way back when, but thankfully, she didn't listen.

I was glad to see she'd chosen a Ponsetti approach - I just love those things at Christmas time, don't you? And the kid really looks good in a pot, besides. Seriously, he's cute. Really! I did want to grab him and run for the border, but then I remembered that word that should strike terror in the hearts of all do-gooders - diapers. So, sorry to say, the kid will just have to make do with what he's got - loving parents, well-trained Doc Martins, and a martini when he turns twenty.

On me. Yep - I put it in writing.

What a Heel! Part Deaux

Well, in my efforts to get this heel spur issue resolved, I went in for another prolotherapy session. Painfuuuulllll! (say it in a very high, squeaky voice, then pass out, for full effect.) But the fun was just beginning. It turns out that inducing inflammation (which is part of the prolo process, by the way), can on occasion have a cascade effect - inflammation squared, you might say. So imagine my delight upon waking up Sunday (the session was Saturday morning) to discover my foot was swollen about like that really bad boil you had last spring. You know the one - you just knew if it didn't subside soon, it was going to go volcanic all on its ownsome, because the skin simply had no more room to stretch? Yeah - call it Pop-a-palooza. So there I was, completely unable to even flex my ankle without screeching pain, like a 16 penny nail being driven into my heel with a pile driver. Every motion. Every single bloody motion. Oh, joy.

So, crutches, cold packs, hot soaks (both of which produced their own special pains,) elevate, massage (oh, no you can't!!!) drugs (what kind of weak soup do they make these things from?) When I take a med for pain, by gummy, I want to feel NOTTHING!!!! What's a guy gotta do to get some relief around this dump???!!@!

So, the doctor, (nice guy, by the way, sends me jokes by email,) says, take aspirin, elevate that sucker, cold and hot soaks, and (you will just LOVE this one ) time. Time, he says!! That's easy for him to say! He doesn't have to try and walk on pitchforks, does he?

Two days off work. Back today, but with a rigid cast shoe (I'm telling everyone else it was a skiing accident, but for some reason, they just laugh at me - must know me too well. Note to self - Have to change that.) Crutches, too. Makin' my arm pits ache. Giving me a 10-scale back ache. Giving me grief. Yeah, I know, it will settle down, and be better in the long term. Well, I have my own term for that weak-assed explanation:

Phooey.

Limpy Gimp - At Least I'm Not a Governator

Let's face it - muscles will get you further than a limp in this world. They will make you more money, get you more attention, even (apparently) get you more sex. So, workout, Dude! But there is apparently a downside - these days, nearly everyone will think you cheated. Steroids, philandering, pay-for-play, whatever spin you want to give it, its still cheating. At least I came by my limp honestly (not like I had any choice, mind you.)

But, I hear you say, those of us who are not rich and famous cannot possibly know the troubles they've seen, oh, the hard-pressed rich folk! Yeeeaaah -no. I don't think so. There are many examples of wealthy and powerful people who don't resort to cheating, but the press finds no value in such boring fare. They only salivate to the freaks and crazies - makes better money for them, you see. But gimps? Sure, they gave Roosevelt a pass, maybe because of that cigar, who knows. And Stephen Hawking (my hero, I'll admit,) well, he only gets press because he's too freakin' smart, and that high, squeaky machine voice doesn't hurt his screen presence, either. (Besides, he may be our only hope against the black hole headed this way. Oh, sorry, you missed that story? Well, too late for that now. Have a nice day, won't you?)

Being a crip does have it's upsides: I ain't never getting drafted, not even for the NBA. And the only famous person I have to model my own desire for fame on is Dudley Moore, and honestly? I cannot drink that much. My bladder would probably fail before I got fully loaded, so what's the point? Then there are all those other examples of fame and fortune who simply by fate were "Born This Way." No, not her, though I tend to think she's still in the closet about her gimp-dom. No, I'm talking about what's his name, and who-she. Right there on the tip of my tongue. Oh, well, more part-timerz, I guess. It will come to me when neither of us expect it.

Anyway, the point is, I'd rather emulate my shoemaker, who has spent his entire life using his time and talent to help other people live a little better life. Much as I'd like the money, I'd much rather, at the end of my life, be able to say I did good. You can't take the money with you, but you can leave a better legacy through honest effort than by basing your life on getting yours, and screw everyone else.

Uncle Gimpy's Story Time

Limping, as I've touched on before, is nature's way of accounting for pain, pathomechanics, and trauma, affecting the body in an asymmetrical manner. Again, the body has two primary goals in the face of any of these causes: to maintain as level a visual horizon line as possible, and to keep the inner ear balanced. All else is secondary to these two central requirements. This is mainly because it is easier to limp than to alter one's inner equilibrium or the alignment of the eyes with the horizon. Thus, the body works to compensate by other mechanisms: bending the knee, abducting the foot, lifting the heel on one side early in the gait cycle, externally rotating the leg. Each of these actions in turn produce effects further up the body: hip raise on one side, shoulder drop on the other; slow changes to the sacral level toward imbalance, that eventually results in scoliotic and lordotic changes; even going as far in some individuals as causing a primary head tilt. I have even met individuals whose multi-level compensation has led to an observable change in the levels of the eye orbits, this last being found only, in my experience, in individuals with pronounced ligamentous laxity.

The most interesting aspect of limping is how it varies from person to person. Some of us manage to compensate without limping, especially if the compensation has occurred throughout one's life. But when the trauma is new, the body has not had time yet to compensate, so it is left only with the option of limping, unless a lift, or the appropriate orthotic device is introduced, reducing or eliminating the need to compensate, and thereby stopping a limp from developing. This series of observations, over many years, has led me to an understanding of compensatory function and the secondary purpose of limping.

The primary purpose, in my view, is to offset changes to one's biomechanics in gait, that result first in pain, and soon after by challenging the inner ear and the visual horizon. Limping is thus initially an accommodation to a rude new reality. But as time goes on without any intervention, either mechanically or surgically, limping begins a chain of actions referred to as compensatory. That is, they permit the body to rearrange itself to account for the pathomechanical changes not otherwise addressed. So, an early heel-off limp might slowly be absorbed by the development of a change in the sacral-pelvic angle, which in turn may eventually lead to a shoulder drop on the opposite side. And each type of limp, combined with the ligamentous tonality in that particular person, will eventually reshape and realign the biomechanics presented originally into a new format, so to speak. Thus, we can see limps where the leg externally rotates (usually an effort to "shorten" a long limb - effectively reducing the length of the "lever arm" of the forefoot during the propulsive phase of gait); limps where the knee bends (long side) or hyperextends (short side, and usually accompanied by other levels of compensation); limps where the pelvic girdle rotates more than normal (where there may be some muscular weakness, often to the short side.) And of course, limps caused by acute trauma that dramatically or subtly alter the nerve, muscle, and tendo-ligamentous structures and functions.

The downside of non-intervention is obvious - the longer the limping is allowed to continue, the deeper and more problematic the resultant compensatory changes become. And time, along with severity of the pathomechanics, are factors in how to (eventually) intervene, and at what speed such intervention might reduce or eliminate the compensations. Someone who is twelve years of age when their trauma initiates the compensatory chain of events will allow for rapid response once intervention is initiated, whereas someone in their fifty's whose trauma has been interfering with their bodies for years may well take several years of graduated intervention before real counter-compensation can take shape.

We are complex creatures, physically (I am unqualified to speak to our other complexities, except to admit to their existence.) And the fact our bodies are capable of changing structurally in response to trauma, whether abrupt, or of a congenital nature, is for me an amazing challenge, and will continue to be something I study, because there is nothing I like better than solving mysteries. And believe me, humans are nothing if not full of mysteries.

Home on the Range of Motion-Redux, or, Tilt-a-whirl is My Middle Name

I've spoken about the concept of range of motion before, mostly to highlight how us clubbies don't have much to play with. The thing about feet is, they are (usually) a rather remarkable adaptation by the organism known as Prince, er, humans. They are extraordinarily adaptive to changing conditions, both on the ground, and, like most amphibious critters, in the water, as well. But that adaptability is highly dependent on an adequate range of motion. When that range is restricted, well, lest just say it leads to a life of mischief. No?

OK, how's this? When you can't adjust to changes in ground contour sufficiently, your body has two choices - compensate, or fall down. Most of us, with the possible exception of skateboarders, would opt for number one - compensate. But compensation, while not that problematic in the short term, can be very problematic over time. For example, you walk down the same sidewalk every day, when going to work, with your right side pointing toward the street, and when returning in the evening, with your left facing the street. Now, nearly all sidewalks have some degree of "cant," that is, they tilt toward the street, for the obvious purpose - to shed water more effectively. But this means walking on that sidewalk off-centers your body, with one side acting longer than the other.

Now, a truly adaptive foot can accommodate this imbalance with little strain, but feet with poor, or limited range of motion are forced to use joints other than those of the feet to achieve any degree of compensatory function, meaning the ankle, knee, hip, back, and shoulder/cervical spine complexes. Depending on the duration of this forced compensation, meaning both number of such encounters, and the amount of time each such encounter takes, the compensation can create both acute (short term), and chronic (long-term) changes to the entire body. And this can be further complicated by the quality of the ligamentous tonality. That is, people with a loose ligament tonality will generally compensate to a higher degree than people with tighter tonality. But looser tonality usually permits more levels of compensation to occur at a quicker rate than will happen with tighter tonality, while having a lower likelihood of pathological impact, and tighter tonality's compensations have a higher likelihood of producing a greater pathological impact. Not the best tradeoff, but there it is.

In some respects, this may explain why some clubbies have fewer long-term issues, especially if they have a loose ligamentous tone. It might also explain why some clubbies get other gait and postural issues as they age - tight ligamentous tonality will more likely cause up-chain pathomechanics (above the feet.) If you are wondering about your own ligamentous tone, there is a simple test to at least ball-park it for you: Take your right (or left) thumb with the opposite hand, and bend the thumb down toward your forearm.  If you can get it close to, or even touch the thumb to the forearm, you have a loose tone, whereas if you can't get it much past 90 degrees, you run tight. (The phrase, "double-jointed" usually refers to someone with very loose tone.)

In my experience, I've found that people with tight tone need to be evaluated for any possible discrepancy in the functional and/or anatomical length of their legs relative to each other. Because they cannot usually compensate as readily, they will benefit the most from both orthotic and lift therapy, to help offset the trauma of poor compensation. And as for post-club feet specifically, even where there is loose tonality, there may be little benefit over tight tone. Especially where there have been many surgeries, as the more surgeries, the higher degree of scar tissue potential that further tightens the structures of the foot. This is usually a good candidate foot for rocker sole therapy.

Now, obviously, these are generalizations, but in my experience, they show themselves in these manners more often than not. I simply point out that, having a better understanding of your own ligamentous tone can help explain your won particular development over time. And while it wasn't me that originally said, "hey, its all downhill from here," it probably applies. Most clubbies I know find they have a harder time walking off paved surfaces, or on canted paved surfaces, and especially, on sand. Meaning Cabo is probably better appreciated from the cabana bar.

This Little Piggy Went to Market, This Little Piggy Went Home...

Post-clubbies have one thing in common when it comes to footwear - they have little in common with non-clubbies. Fit, function, and fashion? Well, we are lucky to get two out of three. There is of course a spectrum - some, such as myself, have decided to go custom only, as this option affords the best degree of all three. However, it has the downside of being expensive. Some have figured out they can use some combination of athletic shoes and street shoes, within limits, of course. A few continue to try for the fashion option despite the disadvantages in the realms of fit and function. You could argue that these are exactly the same variables non-clubbies face/choose, but the degree of compromise clubbies have to face is significantly greater. I know this because my sig other can walk into any shoe store in the land and come out broke, whereas I go into any shoe store and turn around and come right out again, usually depressed I can't buy a set of loafers.

To make it even more interesting, those clubbies who wear AFOs or bulky foot orthotics are even more limited, especially when it comes to fashion. Nobody is happy to be considered a fashion dweeb, but we either learn to get over it, or it drags us down further. Personally, I've pretty much accepted the fashion write-off, as it is far more critical I get reductions in pain. This is why I will never have a future as a masochist.

The custom option, besides being expensive, is increasingly difficult to find. Most folks have to travel a significant distance to find a custom shoemaker these days, and unless that shoemaker is younger, they will eventually find themselves where I now find myself - looking for a new shoemaker. Salvadore, who was both my fellow shoemaker, and my personal shoemaker after I stopped doing the work myself, has finally raised his hammer for the last time (that's a shoemaker's pun.) I am amazed he held on so long - he's eighty, and unfortunately, he's got the Big C. And despite having five sons, none wanted to follow in their father's footsteps, so he leaves no heir to take over the business. As he was also doing substantial work for the VA, and returning, wounded vets, there are going to be a lot of hurting folks just over one person's retirement. But, as they say, se la vie.

On another note, I'd like to share something I've been thinking about for a long time. Most clubbies know that when they go see a foot doc for their ever-increasing pain, they are more likely than not to be told they need a fusion. Now, I've made no bones about my feelings on this issue, but I understand why this seems the only option - it will indeed, hwoever temporarily, stop the pain. But eventually, the ankles go, and then the knees, so in essence, a fusion merely trades pain in one place for pain in another. So, as the only tool in the tool box, it's a devil's bargain.

And, I even understand why most surgeons are reluctant to try other approaches - no real research and nobody wants to be the first through that door. But somewhere out there is a orthopedist or podiatrist who can think outside the box, and be willing to work with clubbies toward more realistic and longer-lasting solutions. To that end, I am calling on all clubbies to start talking to their doctors about the possibility of participating in a conference where both doctors and clubbies will attend, the aim being to 1) offer the clinicians a larger population of clubbies to examine and listen to so as to broaden their understanding of the variations in both function and lack thereof in post-club feet, and 2) brainstorm with us clubbies on other potential approaches.

So, here is my offer: if you find this a compelling idea, and are willing to work to make contact with your doctor/s and with other doctors who might find this an interesting idea, I will host such a conference in the San Francisco Bay Area. I will be responsible for bringing clinicians from this area into the mix, and to securing a venue and all the planning needed for this to happen. I will propose a tentative date of June, 2013, which should be more than enough time to spread the word, and to get initial responses that will justify going forward with this idea.

And I will also extend this idea to those out there who have children currently being treated. I think that despite what their pediatric surgeons may tell them, their kids are as likely to have future issues as not, and they may find it reasonable to learn about what might be possible for their children as adults.

So, my question to all you clubbies out there is simple - would you find this a good enough idea that you would make the effort to come to such a conference? Let me know.

I mean, there doesn't seem to be much reason to keep accepting the status quo, from my way of thinking.

Night Splints, Redux, and Some Meandering Mental Spelunking

So I've been wearing the dorsiflexion night splints for this heel spur/plantar fasciitis problem, and it is having some positive effect. The "first step" pain so often indicative of both conditions has lessened considerably. But when I've been sitting a while, well, here it comes again! Onward I plod.

The negative on the night splints is how they have caused me to regurgitate old memories. As a child, I had to wear similar night splints, as I've mentioned in a prior post. But now, I have dreams of that period, and they ain't pretty, ya dig? Though these present day splints are made of plastic and velcro, and are significantly more comfortable by comparison, getting up to hit the head in the middle of the night is nearly as bad as the first time. Hence the dreams, I suppose.

I recently read an article on folks who suffer from Charcot-Marie-Tooth's Disease. I remember making shoes for a number of such folks back in the day. I am struck by the similarities, not of the conditions themselves, per se, but how post-club feet, CMT Disease, and even MS, of how the conditions are experienced by those who have to contend daily with them. Chronic pain, the every day knowledge that you will only get worse (though without any firm timeline, degree of change, or speed of deterioration knowable by you or by the medical community,) the constant awareness of needing to plan your day so as to avoid any unnecessary efforts, a background buzz of staying at least moderately aware of the surfaces you walk on, the shoes you wear and their balance or lack thereof, and more.

I know for myself, and for many others I have made shoes and orthotics for over the years, it might only be a difference of one degree of wear on my shoes, or having to negotiate ten blocks of city streets with slanted sidewalks, to set off a long bout of both foot and, by extension, lower back pain (compensation at work,) though the effect of the slanted sidewalks can sometimes be offset by walking back in the opposite direction, but on the same side of the street (this just unbalances you in the opposite direction, and while no less problematic for my feet, can at least stave off the painful back a while.)

I have long been aware of how I notice the way in which other people walk - that's partly a hazard of those years of doing gait analysis - especially when I see their badly-worn shoes, or the women who wear those six-inch spikes and walk with a distinct wobble. I know from long experience working with such people when they get older, and the toll of that need for attention finally grabs their attention in unpleasant ways, that it could all be avoided. But when you do not suffer from chronic pain, there just isn't a problem, is there? There is a factor known as angolaglia, which means the willingness to bear pain whose cause appears to contribute to one's beauty. (See William Rossi's Sex Life of the Foot and Shoe, an excellent primer on all things shoe and foot fetish and the attendant psychology. Look it up on Amazon.) So after spending many years trying to "talk some sense" into (particularly) the women who do this slow, steady damage to themselves, I finally had my eyes opened by an elderly woman who responded to my suggestions by saying (quite bluntly, as I recall,) "young man," (I was, once,) "men do not pursue women whose body has no form, and whose walk has no motion." Well, she sure shut my mouth. Trying to talk sensibly to a woman about healthy shoes is like trying to convince an alligator to adopt a vegetarian diet. A complete waste of time.

In my case, there is no willingness to bear the pain, there is only its inevitability. And as for beauty? Ask my beautiful wife. I'm the furthest from objectivity when it comes to my glorious mug.

MRI's Don't Lie, Do They?

To begin, it is clearly no secret I've been dealing with these post-club-feet blues for a long time, so when I developed the heel spurs on top of everything else, it didn't really surprise me. And when the doc sent me for the MRI's, I thought I knew what to expect - a real mess. Well, that doesn't even begin to describe what they showed. In the report by the radiologist, I found it both amusing and upsetting to see a perfect example of how a medical professional can employ clinical language to say, basically, "those are the most fu**ed up feet I have ever seen, and I demand you keep them far away from me." Following is the Impressions section of the report, which is sort of like a synopsis:

1. SUBTALAR JOINT AND MIDFOOT DEGENERATIVE CHANGE WITH NAVICULAR CYCSTIC CHANGE/EDEMA AND FEATURES OF POSTERIOR IMPINGEMENT NOTED.

2. PLANTAR FASCIAL CALCANEAL SPUR WITH MODERATE THICKENING, PLANTAR FASCIA, AND WITH MINIMAL SURROUNDING SOFT TISSUE EDEMA.

3. DEGENERATIVE CHANGE, METATARSALPHALANGEAL JOINT, WITH VARUS ANGULATION OF METATARSALPHALANGEAL JOINT, FIRST DIGIT..

He also notes the appearance of an Achilles tendon tear, but feels it is less-than-remarkable in  light of all the other scary stuff.

(I suppose I should feel a bit insulted being characterized as a degenerate, but that's exactly what my seventh grade teacher said about me, too, so what the heck.)

So, I have two choices vis-a-vis the heel spurs/plantar fasciitis - keep going with the prolotherapy, or try a cortisone shot to settle it down, and maybe later have to do it again, or worse, surgery. I think I'll stick with the prolo (though my wife is beginning to think I may be a closet masochist, given the degree of pain the procedure causes one to endure. But I just keep telling her it builds character. ((of course, she simply reminds me I'm enough of a character already, so please don't do her any favors)))

But all this has made me curious (well, actually, I think it was heat stroke at eight years old that did that, but I digress.) Have you had heel spurs/plantar fasciitis? How did you deal with it? Let us all know. After all, we're mostly in the same sort of boat, ya think?

Heel Spurs, Redux

OK, so, today I go in for an MRI on both feet. I can't wait to see the film! Finally, a starring roll. In cross-sections, no less. Actually, it should be quite interesting. Given the number of surgeries I've had, there has to be a mess-o-scar tissue in there, which might make my doc a bit dizzy as he tries to make sxzense of it. That's right, sxzense, that is exactly what I meant. Or not.

So, I thought this would be a good time to try and enumerate all the surgeries, therapies, and hardware that have been applied to me footsies over the years, simply by way of something fun to do. That OK?

1. Manual stretching and serial casting, starting at two weeks of age. This continued until I was two or so.
2. Tendo-Achilles Z-plasty, to lengthen the Achilles, B/L.
3. Medial soft tissue releases, B/L.
4. Anterior Tibialis lateral transfers, B/L.
5. Dennis Brown night splints.
6. Surgery to remove a bone cycst on the dorsum of my left foot, that resulted in the rupture of my tensor retinaculum, a fascial band that holds the anterior tibial tendon against the foot. The result is that my left anterior tib bow-strings away from my foot, and makes it a perfect site for shoe irritation.
7. Dorsi-flex assit night splints. These had metal uprights and a steel plate along the bottom, with wide elastic bands that attached to both sides near the toes, and extended to the calf band. They were supposed to hold my feet in a dorsiflexed position all night. The fun part was sounding like Frankenstein's monster when I got up at night to go to the bathroom. I woke everybody, because there was no way to walk in stealth mode, ya dig? Plus, I tore through sheets at an amazing rate!
8. Twister straps. These were the ultimate form of torture. I wore them when I was in the third, fourth, and fifth grade, where they presented an especially delightful experience in gym class. You see, I had to wear a girdle. Yep, a girdle. The wide elastic bands attached directly to my brown, round-toed, orthopedic shoes (the height of fashion, dontcha know) on the outside near the front of each shoe. The elastic bands were then wrapped around my legs three times, spiral fashion, and then attached to a girdle under my clothes. That is, unless I was changing for gym class, where I got to put on a show for the class, whose expertise at humiliation and bullying was significantly better than my expertise in being a duck. (As in water off a ....) Plus, they left rather painful welts in a spiral around my legs - when I removed them at night, I remember the pain being enough to make me cry.
9. Those Damn Shoes - I hated them - nobody anywhere ever wore brown, round-toed laced high-top shoes - except me. Took a lot of crap for that, in case you were interested.
10. The last surgery (to date) involved the removal of two bone spurs on my left foot - one was posterior calcaneus, and the other posterior talus, and they clapped hands every step. The docs who did the cutting managed to sever the distal third of my sural nerve, making the outside, or lateral, border of my foot permanently numb. Marvelous!

Another memory - when I was little, and having casted feet, I remember vividly the process for removing the casts. After a few weeks, as you might suspect, my feet and ankles would be itching like the blazes. The technicians would use a cast-cutter to remove them - the cast cutter has a sharp, circular blade, but it vibrates instead of rotating. Let me tell you, once you got past the fear caused by the noise those things make, you quickly came to realize how much the crazy thing made you tickle. And I mean like crazy tickle. Then, after the casts were taken off, there was all that dry skin, and residue around the surgical site that was crusted on. They had to soak my legs, then use a stiff brush to get all that stuff off, and that, my friends, did NOT tickle - it hurt like the fires of heck!

Funny thing is - these days? All I wear are high-top, round-toed, lace-up boots. At least now, they're black.

I've Had It - They're Coming Off!!!

I really can't take it anymore - the pain, the frustration, the humiliation. I've tried to work through this for years, but I've finally reached the end of my rope. Hell, I've even thought of using a rope! Or worse. What could be worse than rope, you ask? Fire. Fire would be bad. It would really hurt. So, no fire. Or can you imagine, water? Deep, cold water? Me either. Bbbrrrrr.

No. I am going to do it with surgical precision. A scalpel, maybe some local anesthetic. Or not. Depends on how bad I want to remember the experience, what's it to you? Sorry. I'm just a little nervous around needles and stuff. Forgive me.

But I try to stay focused on the upside. Soon, it will all be over, and then, bliss! I won't ever again need to explain it to strangers, or excuse it with friends. I'll be able to regain more social activities, instead of always avoiding crowds. I may even be able to smile for the cameras once again. I understand I used to do that, when I was young. But I am not young. Not anymore. I have a sister who's young, and good for her. Or maybe I am already too damaged psychologically by all these years of dealing with this horribly deforming facet of my life. If that's the case, well, I already have a well-stocked wine cellar, so I can tell the whole world to just bug off. And I'll do it, too, believe me. But only if it comes to that, I promise.

Mostly, besides getting rid of the pain, I look forward to mounting the buggers on a wall plaque after the surgery. The doctor already promised me, and even suggested I have them bronzed. I thought that might be a little over the top, but I'll be happy to keep them on my desk in a specimen jar. Like a butterfly, or a frog. My wife is a little sickened by the whole idea, but she is glad I'm finally having them cut off. They were really starting to bother her. Or rather, all the grief they were causing me, that's what was bugging her. She just got tired of my years of complaining.

So, I go in next Wednesday. It's well past time - all the other so-called solutions didn't do anything to alleviate the problem. I tried soaking them, taping them, even using every over-the-counter remedy known to drug stores. Nada. Zip. So, enough.

Those damn nose warts are coming off!! Yeah!







You do know what day this is, don't you?







April 1


What, you thought I was talking about my feet? How would I ever be able to dance again?