My feet, without warts these days.
I was certain I’d contracted the stupid wart during my time spent barefoot on the slippery deck of the middle school swimming pool, where we girls were required, by law, to take ten days of instructional swim.
After weeks of applying Compound W with no visible improvement, I pulled off my sock and showed the offending bump to my father and, a few days later, I found myself sitting in his car. As he drove down the Boulevard, he warned me that the doctor was probably going to have to burn it off. He told me it might hurt.
But I wasn’t worried.
I was tough.
I’d had a mouthful of silver fillings put in without Novacaine.
Besides, that wart was gross.
I wanted it off.
Dr. Stone’s office was dark and cluttered with odd pieces of furniture, weird lamps and gadgets. An olive green corduroy jacket drooped from a hook on the back of his door. After inspecting my foot for less than .3 seconds, the doctor walked across the room to retrieve a silver thermos from a cooler. Uncapping the top, white swirls of smoke escaped as he took an extra long Q-Tip swab and stirred it around in whatever magic solution was in there.
I didn’t flinch as the liquid nitrogen sizzled against the offending wart.
When he was finished, the doctor explained what was going to happen and what I needed to do.
I hardly heard him.
But then my father piped in. “While we’re here, doctor…” he started. “She’s got something in her left ear…”
What is it? I wondered. Is it a tumor? Why hasn’t my father mentioned it?
Dr. Stone flipped on his headlamp and leaned in to get a good look, his face too close to mine. His chair creaked.
“Ooooh!” The doctor pushed back in his rolling chair. “She’s got a big ole blackhead in there.” I swear the man giggled as he jumped up to get his instruments.
I was horrified. The wart was bad enough. I didn’t want another ailment. “Dad!” I whispered, covering my ear with one hand. “How long has it been there?”
“I don’t know.” My father shrugged. “A while.”
The doctor returned with an instrument of torture, which he used to scoop out whatever was inside my ear. This second procedure took forever. Every once in a while, the doctor made happy noises.
I sometimes think back to that day in the dermatologist’s office.
Back then, I thought the worst thing that could happen to a person was getting a wart. Or a blackhead in her ear.
Now I know better.
tweet me @rasjacobson
renée a. schuls-jacobson 
AAUGH! EVERY single time one of us kids had swimming at school, we got at least one plantar’s wart. I think my mom must have just made the appointment for the doctor as soon as she saw “Pool” on the class schedule. My son even got one from our hospital stay. For pete’s sake – as if we didn’t have enough going on at that moment, he comes home with a plantar’s wart.
Isn’t it great, though, that we had access to a dermatologist for teen-aged skin issues? Even if you got stuck with the mad giggler!
LikeLike
Perfect observation. I wish my biggest problems today could be things like blackheads.
LikeLike
The pain of growing up was so sharp at the time; looking back, it now seems just sweetly achy. Blackheads, breakups, and social blunders ruled my adolescence and sent me weeping to my room. As my son enters this period of teenager hood, I feel his sharp pain, but it is softened with nostalgia.
LikeLike
KA-SNORT!
You were one tough little cookie, Renee.
Oh, how I wish my current malady involved my feet. I have a recurring pimple that mars the symmetry of my dimples.
I have no dimples on my face.
LikeLike
Yes, Renee. I suspect there’s a deeper message hidden beneath the humor in this story. Pinging good vibes your way.
Tiny favor? Ping some back at me. I, too, use humor to shield myself from what seems to be an insurmountable soul-wrenching problem.
HUGS!
LikeLike
I think what hurts the most is the not telling. Why didn’t they tell you???
LikeLike
I remember having a wart on the back of my heel when I was young. The doctor CUT it out. It was TERRIBLE!!! The thing bled and bled and hurt like the devil when I wore shoes. I’ll never forget it.
LikeLike
But the warts and blackheads of youth prepare us for the challenges of adulthood. So I give them their proper homage. Love and hugs to you. May you weather every storm with such courage as you did that stupid wart.
LikeLike
If only…
BTW, beautiful feet. 🙂
LikeLike
This has been a rough year for me. The roughest of my life so far. The worst part was, at times, feeling as if I were completely alone.
Recently, I received concrete evidence that this is not the case. I do, in fact, have people (only a few, but for these purposes, ‘few’ is the right number) who really do and will love me no matter what.
I know I can get through anything now.
And you, my dear, are not alone.
LikeLike
I’ve had both and we all know there can be a lot worse things in life. Ah. For the naivety of youth…
LikeLike
Yes, there are plenty of things worse then warts and zits but still…EWWWW!
LikeLike
We always look back on “the worst” times and realize that they are nothing compared to the pain we are going through now. The good news is that you will also get through this mess, and I’m sure that this will be the worst. Only happy times from here on out, right? I am thinking good healing thoughts for you and wishing you strength and calmness over this rough time. You have many friends and people who support you. I am one of those people. Let me know if you need someone to lean on. I am very sturdy. Love you!
LikeLike
There’s pain.
Then there’s embarrassment.
LikeLike
I remember a planter wart on the instep of my foot (can’t remember whether it was my left or right). We kept trying to get rid of it and finally, it was burned off similar to what you experienced. Yes, if that was the worst thing that could ever happen, my life would be different today.
LikeLike
Whatever “worse” is, know that I care and would do anything to help you.
LikeLike
been to worst and back a few times–don’t like the trip–hope yours is bareable
LikeLike
I’m always terrified that a spider will crawl in my ear whilst I slept and lay eggs. I’m sure there’s a name for that phobia… What I’m trying to say here is that it could have been worse. It could have been a nest of spiders…
This is probably why I don’t have many friends…
Hugs!
Valerie
LikeLike
See, some things never change – you were brave and resilient even back then! Hugs to little and big you!
LikeLike
Ah, the innocent naiveté of youth. As difficult as life might be today, I wouldn’t go back. I’m tougher, stronger with a broader vision of the world. Moments like the one you described…they just help slowly prepare us for those bigger moments. It’s amazing how much strength we gain through time. Of course, we rarely realize it until we’re tested.
LikeLike
I read yesterday and wondered what was up, but didn’t have time to comment. I hope all is well, I try to remember that sometimes our trials seem overwhelming when we are going through them, but looking back it is the fire that has forged us into who we are – it has made us stronger, more resilient, more prepared for what is next. Please know you have many fans and supporters out here – keep looking ahead.
LikeLike
I was thinking the whole time that your father and Dr. Stone were in cahoots to scare the be-Moses(?) out of you! That wasn’t the case? You really had an actual blackhead inside your ear!? Seriously!? They didn’t find ANYTHING else inside your ear…or head? 😉
LikeLike
Damn, you have nice toes, girl 🙂 so so so Glad you didn’t have a tumor. Xx
LikeLike
I completely forgot about burning warts off. Oh, the memories of youth! I like what Misty said, and I’m thinking of you and also a little jealous of your cute feet. My feet are purely utilitarian. Also good for support.
LikeLike
So true–that perspective–how simple some “troubles” can be.
LikeLike
I got this big pain in my neck removed in 1984. Got divorced.
LikeLike