Toe-morrow

I'm having an operation this Friday. No, I'm not having my face ironed, I'm having toenail surgery.

I wasn't really worried about it until this week a friend told me that it was the worst operation she'd ever had. And she had open heart surgery about 2 months ago as well. I hope she was joking - she's Scottish, they're funny like that.

Actually, I'm quite looking forward to it. For one it will sort out the recurring pain/swelling/pus I've had on and off for the last three years. I can trace the problem back to honeymoon where I banged it in the swimming pool (no laughing at the back), since when I've periodically limped round with a big bandaged foot like a disabled cyberman, marching one one foot - dragging t'other.

I'm also quite looking forward to the whole process. I don't mind the injections - 13years of being addicted to heroin* sorts that fear out and I'm quite curious to watch the human body being messed about with. I popped my knee in football once and it swelled up so much that I had to go to hospital where they drained it using a needle the size of a chipolta and a piece of rubber tubing into what looked like my kitchen measuring jug at the time. I remember two things - utter relief and uncontrollably laughing as a bizarre red, brown and white fluid came out of the joint. A nice mix of colours for an East European flag.

And once done, I like the post-op time. Again, I had a lump removed from my shoulder under local anaesthetic and watched the whole thing. But in recovery they refused to let me go until I had a cup of tea. Thing is, I don't like tea or coffee. So I spent about an hour convincing them I was fine, and that not liking either beverage was not a sign of a reaction to the op - just my own personal choice.

Had they offered me red bull and frazzles, I'd have jumped at the chance.

Anyway, the op is at 3pm tomorrow - so hopefully my doctor will let me blog during it and I might throw some pics in too.

Oh, and I will ask the question "will I be able to tap dance after this op?" and when she says "Yes" I shall say "Blimey. I can't tap dance now, so that will be brilliant." That joke c/o Gyles Brandreth's Big Book of Jokes 1982.

Speak to you toe-morrow.

*not really - it was just 4 years.