A Nail Biting Affair

During my childhood I once rammed my left foot into a pot (obviously the one with plants) while cycling and ever since I have faced a lot of problems with my left toenail. It grew into my skin everytime and I had to get it removed every year. This year when it started to happen again I sought for a permanent cure. It turns out its a simple procedure where they would kill the nail bed under my skin where it resides and after that my nail would grow where it should. Well its only afterwards I found out that the simple procedure consisted of 4 injections, cutting my skin, removing flesh, chipping off half my nail and two stitches.

Its 1'o clock on friday and me and my dad are waiting outside the operation theatre (Thats right. This simple procedure was done in a proper operation theatre with a red light I have seen only in movies. My last nail removal was done in the dressing room of an OPD). So this young girl with surgery clothes and a mask walks up to me and hands me an operation gown. "Make sure you remove everything". "Everything?" " Yes, Everything." (Was I getting a heart transplant? What has my essentials got to do with my bad toenail?)So I am in the changing room and I knew my sorrows were only starting. This gown was like a green wraparound only with all the tying strings sewn on one side. Only one was available on the other side. I tied that one and was wondering if the other strings were to be used to tie me to the bed or something. This gown was weird. It kept slipping from the shoulder because it hadn't been tied in that area (Stupid tailors of the hospital). I now knew how girls felt wearing one pieces. Damn they are brave. I also felt like a jackass wearing this thing and sitting outside the surgeons office with my dad who by the way could hardly contain his laughter. Soon I was escorted to the operation theatre. It was like one of those you see in movies where the doctors are removing bullets from the hero's chest.

So here I am lying on the bed and covered with a number of green sheets so that only my foot and my head was visible. Turns out the young girl surgeon would be assisting the doctor surgeon in this operation. They were ready to give me Anasthesia so the doctor warned me that the injections would hurt. They gave me the first one and I almost ate my lower lip. "Did it hurt?" (Well of course not. I come from Jupiter. Why don't you try again??)I then thought it would be best to be brave and bear the pain like a man. Be expressionless. I thought of Jack Bauer from 24. The other three injections went smoothly and I showed no signs of pain even though it did. I was proud of myself.  Its only later I figured that I was supposed to show signs of pain so that they could give me adequate anasthesia. Fortunately the anasthesia worked well and I could sense the two doctors busy on my toe. Although it was the questions he kept asking to the nurses that were troubling me. "Do we have silver nitrate?" "Do we have any hydrogen peroxide left?". (What the heck?) Aren't you supposed to ask these kind of questions BEFORE you begin tearing my toe apart?

The operation was successful and as they were dressing my toe I asked them the dreaded question not feeling so brave now "Will it pain when the anasthesia wears off?". This is the reply I got "It won't be a severe pain but it'll be like ...umm....a throbbing one. What? Aren't they like synonyms?