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Going to a podiatrist

I am going to a podiatrist tomorrow (oops! today!) My right big toe had been giving me problems for a while now. And for the past three weeks, it's swollen.

It actually look like a round grape. Alison commented that it looks like the shroom that shoots poison in the Plant vs Zombie game. I agree with her.

Looks aside, it's terribly annoying. It hurts when I walk, I have to slosh around in slippers becauseI can't wear shoes. I can't teach properly. I already have a bad knee. Now a bad toe too.

My mum has a saying, " A wound has lots of 'friends'." She's absolutely right. I lost count on the number of times that toe was stepped on, stubbed into, generally attracting disaster. Even a game of roll-around with Wookie meant certain danger. He would accidently step on it.

Since I am on my third course of antibiotics and it still looks like a grape, I thought I better let the expert have a look at it. I do not want to end up losing a toe. Alison ( who appears to be a wealth of knowledge where toes are concerned) told me that apparently one cannot stay on balance if one does not have a big toe. I simply cannot imagine a ballet teacher without a toe! (HORRORS!)

So anyway, going to the podiatrist is a new experience for me. I am extremely nervous, to say the least. What will he/she do to me? Will he/she remove my nail? Will it be ripped off me?

I think this nervous feeling stemmed from an incident from the past, when I was about 5 years old.

I used to stay in Setapak on the 1st floor of a shop lot. I remember my dad having a printing shop downstairs on the adjoining shop. One day, there were a lot of howling and screaming and crying from upstairs. I remember an Indian family was living above us.

There were a lot of whispers between my mum and grandmother. for you people out there, in case you think little children do not have ears, they DO! And very big ones too.

The whispers were about a death of one of the family member of our neighbour upstairs. Apparently, he joined some triad and betrayed them. So they tortured him. one of the tortures was removing all his nails! It must have made a hefty impression on me as a 5-year old because now, nearly half a century later, I can still remember it vividly.

I also remember the smell of the cologne they used to wash the body. Everytime I smell that cologne, it grips me.

So tell me, how can I not feel nervous about tomorrow (nope today, since it's past midnight)?

"Dear God, please do not let them rip off my nail"



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