Well, today was appointment number two for Mr. Z and his amazing "Foot of a thousand Warts!" And, just to make things exciting, once again, Miss O came along for the ride.
It wasn't quite as horrific as the first go-round. At this point, all of the warts have turned into giant, pus-filled blisters, after their previous run-in with the liquid nitrogen. Which, apparently, is a good thing. Unless you're Mr. Z and you have to do things like, oh, walk.
We got there and I was a little better prepared this time. I brought a couple of books for the boy and I brought along a blank notebook, some crayons and a sandwich bag stuffed with handful of Polly Pockets for Miss O. The doc came in and took a gander at his handiwork, or footiwork, as it were. He had a look of awe mixed with detached bemusement. He gave off a vibe of, "Wow, that shit I used last time was pretty fucking powerful. And it looks like it's working! Get me, I'm a real doctor!"
So, Mr. Z, knowing what was coming this time, was a little reticent to assume the position on the exam table. I tried to reassure him and remind him of how brave he was last time, but he wasn't buying it. Finally, the doc said, "Well, I have a little something for you and your sister if you do a good job," and that seemed to chill him out a bit. I shot the doc a look of, "Dude, it better be a fucking lollipop and not some cartoony pamphlet on proper foot hygiene, or you're in deep shit." He quickly looked at the floor.
First up, it was time for more carving. The doc opened up a bag labeled "scalpel," and prepared to slice and dice. Mr. Z saw it and almost kicked him in the face. I got him calmed down again... and then I calmed down Mr. Z. (Ha! See what I did there? I made like I was really talking about the doctor! Comedy gold!) Yeah, so he started poking holes in the blisters and slicing the dead skin off to see what kinds of horrors lay beneath the bubbles. Frankly, it looked like the dude was kinda making the whole thing up as he went along, but again, for some reason I went along with it.
At this point, Miss O was pretty cool with the proceedings and was happily coloring away in her Frosted-Flakes-Box-Turned-Into-A-Notebook that I made. Then, the doc got out the can of liquid nitrogen. Miss O instantly pulled all of our coats over her head and plugged her ears. Guess the memories of Wartapalooza I hadn't quite faded yet.
The doc didn't need to blast all of them this time -- apparently three of them were successfully killted off the first time, so they were spared. HOWEVER, I pointed out two other, smaller, warterinos that the dude missed last time, so he had to zap those instead. Thanks for nothing, Dad! Mr. Z was not too thrilled about the freezing, but he was a trooper, nonetheless. Again, he almost kicked the doc in the face at one point, but you know what? The dude could probably use a wart-studded kick to the head now and again to keep him in line, ya know? Keep him honest.
And then it was over. He said they're looking good and we made a final (hopefully) appointment for three weeks from now. Oh, and the doc got the kidlets their treats -- two little bags filled with a few Hershey's Kisses, some candy canes and a pencil. All probably smeared with Streptococcus and Leptospira and BM cultures. THANKS DOC!
The boy did great again, though. Total pro. Miss O? Probably scarred for life. She'll never go barefoot again. I think she wore flip-flops to bed tonight. I'm pretty sure she's suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Dis-Warter.
Sorry... I'm tired.
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