A Thorn in My Foot
Again, it’s one of those days that nobody has time for anything, or as the calendar calls it, Tuesday.
Again, I’m faced with a hectic schedule and about a million things to do, without a lot of time to write about stories and books, but I will write about something else.
I got a thorn in my foot, the back of my ankle to be precise, and it was there for over a week.
How did I get this thorn in my foot? Let me tell you.
So, I was at my boyfriend’s house about two weeks ago, or thereabouts, and I was doing some yard work. I like working outside. I have lived in an apartment for several months, so sue me for doing yard work at someone else’s house. My boyfriend’s backyard, and kitchen window, happened to be home to a very large rose-bush. I am not joking about the kitchen window part. This bush had gotten so monstrous that it had wormed its way in between the pieces of the window and was trying to take over the inside of the kitchen. I decided to kill it. Well, I didn’t kill it. I just trimmed it up, a lot.
This rose-bush was so gigantic that it had tried to make its way inside the house, as I mentioned earlier, but it had also consumed the sidewalk that went to a small patio area, ingratiated itself, forcefully, into a Rose of Sharon tree, and had its sights set on the rest of the backyard. There was one long vine that was endeavoring to snake its way across the back lawn and conquer the world.
I got after this thing with some clippers. They were heavy-duty clippers. I wasn’t going near that thing with some little itty-bitty things. I clipped and I clipped. I showed this bush no mercy. Unfortunately, said bush also showed me no mercy. I eventually finished my task, but not before the rose-bush had managed to get me several times.
The most pressing matter was a thorn in one of my fingers, that didn’t come out for a couple of days. It was rather painful, but it finally did come out, intact. Having an entire thorn in your finger hurts.
I did not, at first, notice anything wrong with my ankle. I ignored the spot for a few days, as I was very busy and went on about all the million things I had to do. It got worse and worse before I finally noticed it. I thought I had gotten bit by a spider or something, that’s how bad it looked. It was raised up and it hurt. It rubbed against the back of my shoes. It was misery.
I did kind of feel like Spongebob on the episode about the splinter. It wouldn’t come out and he kept messing with it and messing with it. I was determined to get to the bottom of whatever was the matter with my foot, but I wasn’t going to be so set on getting to the bottom of the whole deal that I had to go to the doctor, because I currently do not have health insurance. Ain’t nobody got time for paying doctor bills without insurance. Nobody also doesn’t have money for doctor bills without insurance. By Nobody, I mean me, but also anyone else who doesn’t have health insurance. Doctors are too expensive.
Moving on, yesterday, finally, I got to the bottom of my ankle issue. After taking a hot shower, I got some tweezers out after I saw something strange-looking, alien, if you will, in my skin. After all, isn’t anything that doesn’t belong somewhere an alien? For example, socks that are supposed to be in the hamper, but they’re on the floor. You could technically call them aliens to the vicinity of your floor. I pulled it out and it turns out it was also a whole thorn. Luckily, it wasn’t one of the giant ones, but it was sizable enough that I had to wonder how my ankle wasn’t worse. After looking at it, I wondered how I had managed to go about two weeks with this horrendous thing in my ankle. It wasn’t fun and it wasn’t pretty, but sometimes life is just so busy that you don’t notice the things you might other-wise concentrate on, like those “supposed” flesh wounds.