Monday, October 13, 2008

Wart's Happening Now!!

For those of you who've inexplicably been dropping by here for a while, you'll recall the joy that was had during Mr. Z's Wart-tastic Foot-a-Palooza of Winter 2006. Multiple trips to the family doc, with the freezing and the slicing and blood-curdling screaming... wait, am I still talking about warts or have I shifted to some sort of Bill-Kurtis-hosted Jeffrey Dahmer news magazine on the Biography channel?

Anywart, flash-forward a coupla years and, surprise, we find young Miss O following in her brother's papillomavirus-infested footsteps. Two mongo wartzillas growing on the tips of her tiny toes, like a couple of plantar-unicorns... shoe-nicorns, if you will. We've been futilely battling them for a few months, with those fucking worthless Dr. Scholl's wart pads, but the good doctor must've gotten his goddamn degree in Grenada, 'cuz theose fuckers ain't doing shizzle.

Miss O has been to the real doc once, so far, and the Old Lady was the lucky chaperone the first time. It was, apparently, a "fucking nightmare," what with the girl screaming bloody murder and the Old Lady and the nurse having to physically restrain her during the freezing procedure (which also didn't do shit, by the way.)

Well, guess who gets to take her to visit number two, tomorrow? Give up? I'll give you a hint -- it rhymes with "crabbydab." Yep, after school tomorrow, it's round two in the battle of "Miss O vs. Anyone-who-tries-to-get-near-her-fucking-toes"... and their tympanic membranes. That girl can fucking scream with the best of 'em. If Sammy Hagar had been an almost-seven year old girl who had warts on his toes, he wouldn't even come close to out-screaming her. (But he'd still grow up to, one day, sing on Van Halen's album OUWART12.)

The thing is, she used be fucking fearless when she was younger. She'd wipe out, get up and dust herself off, and then run off to wipe-the-fuck out again. (Remember, the crabbykids aren't the most agile of spawnages.) But she had a shitty experience when she got her ears pierced last winter -- one of the earrings was ripped out by an overzealous towel-drying once -- and things rocketed down the ol' shitter after that.

And nothing really helps. I try reasoning, bargaining, BRIBING... nada. I can get her nice and calm... have her laughing and joking around, and then the doc walks in the room and it's like the goddamn Texas Chainsaw Massacre in there. And the thing that kills me is, after it's all over, she's fine. She's like, "Oh, gee... that didn't hurt." Meanwhile, there's blood spouting out of my fucking earholes, the nurse is catatonic and weeping in the corner and the doc is injecting lidocaine into his own jugular.

But, we've gotta go tomorrow just to ensure that her foot doesn't end up looking like the Elephant Man's head. Although I could always just slip a burlap sack over the thing and rent her out to the circus. Money is tight in our troubled economy, but people always love them a good freakshow.

Hmm. Another one of them parental dilemmas I always seem to find myself in...

9 comments:

Burbanmom said...

Poor little Miss O. Bring candy for her and earplugs for you.

good luck!

Carolyn (Harbor Hon) said...

How do you take a situation and turn it into something so funny that I end up choking on anything I'm drinking? I feel for Miss O ... girls just don't like people messing with their feet unless it's pedicure related. Just breathe in and out and pray, you'll be just fine.

Russ said...

I did the wart thing as a youth. Between my upper thighs no less (how about some liquid nitrogen there, sport?).

But you never said if Bill Kurtis found the internet?

crabbydad said...

Burban, great idea. But I think I'll go with bourbon instead of candy. For her, not me. Aw hell, I'll have some, too.

Carolyn, I don't think I'm the one making you choke. I think you may just be drinking incorrectly. Might I suggest a straw?

Holy crap, Russ, between your upper thighs?! Are you sure it wasn't some sort of vestigial ballsack? Ugh... too painful to even imagine. And yes, Bill Kurtis did find the internet... in Jeffrey Dahmer's refrigerator (it was behind a spleen.)

Jeremy said...

Miss O is a lot older than Miss D, but television worked wonders for us. Do you have a little DVD player, or a notebook computer, or a gameboy or anything with a screen? She'll probably scream, but she might start a bit later, and not go quite so long.

That nurse was a fragile case to begin with, anyway.

leslie said...

Drive her there, and send her in on her own.
She'll come out telling you how easy it was.
Bring the flask for in the car while you wait...

fellowgrinnellian said...

I have to say leslie stole my idea! It might seem cruel but I bet she'd do a lot better if you weren't in the room with her.

crabbydad said...

Jeremy, I was thinking of offering her Mr. Z's DS, but I wouldn't know what to say to him after she throws it on the floor and shatters it into a million piecelets. I'm gonna go the candy/lotsa books route. And if that fails, I'm carrying a giant rubber mallet in my back pocket.

Leslie and FG, I like your thinking-out-of-the-box initiative but, frankly, I wouldn't trust Miss O alone in the room with just the nurse, doctor and a scalpel. Three would enter, one would leave.

Carolyn (Harbor Hon) said...

Thanks Crabby ... I'll try the straw, but I can't guarantee anything when you write things the way you do. Seriously, dude, you need to do a stand up comedy routine. :)