Originally Posted by
Snee
Regarding warts: A physician once told me that sometimes, if you manage to irritate the tissue in and around one, in one place on your body, you might get rid of others of the same strain, in other places on your body, if you have them, what with your immune system killing them off.
I had this really wonky one on my arm which I trimmed away a few times (as per the doctor's orders), until finally it went away when I cut it off really deep, using nail clippers (bled like a motherfucker and left a neat scar), and another one I had on my toe also went away without me even noticing. I haven't had a single wart since then.
Might just be bullshit and circumstantial, though. That's one out of two wart-related stories I've gathered in my whole life ever. The other one was on my finger and got savaged with various surgical implements when I attended med school a long time ago, and we wuz bored.
This is the first and only wart I've ever had. It must be some kinda mutated superwart strain or something. The average longevity for a wart is about five years. They usually die off after that without treatment. It first appeared, I'd say, maybe eight years ago. I was fucking horrified. I'm still fucking horrified. Off I sloped doctorwards, whereupon I was promptly placed on a waiting list some nine or ten months long. Meanwhile I was constantly suffering new people I'd meet saying, 'you've got something on your nose', commonly mistaking it for a lump of snot. That doesn't half destroy a fellow's self-confidence. It got so I'd have to mention to people before they mentioned it to me. It was eventually removed one Saturday by a Pakistani gentleman. The relief was overwhelming. I was approaching contentment for about a week, until I could feel the little bastard budding again in my christ-forsaken nostril. It came back bigger and badder than before. Just to fucking spite me.
It's the absolute bane of my existence. My every waking thought swingballs around to it. I can't leave it alone. Many, many times I've been on the brink of taking a set of nail-clippers to it. Saw the doctor last week and she's agreed to put me back on said interminable waiting list. So it's just a matter of wearing an elephant man bag over my head until my number comes up.
It's shite to the max. Work in progress. Plan on performing the below complete with parasite. It'll become somewhat redundant if the universe ever gets around to seeing its way clear to rid me of the bastard. I have a much longer vision planned.
There’s quite enough that’s wrong with me.
Stuff you folk can’t help but see.
Passing peepers more than not
Mistake this wart I’ve got for snot.
Can’t alight on which is worse;
The nit-picker or kindly nurse
Like a hinky hanky might disperse
This parasitic, karmic curse.
Firmly rooted, smug it stands.
From its snotty dug-out, in command.
Tugging gazes, birthing doubt,
An interloper in my snout
Which no myope could overlook.
An artifice, a face forsook.
‘You’ve got something on your nose’
I don’t, I’ve got a dumpling beast that grows
And shrinks upon the moisture’s whim
Like a boisterous, nasal midget limb.
I’ve concocted an unnatural tilt,
Gesticulating ticks of guilt
To trick and stay the awful grub.
Downplay its kinship to a shrub.
Chicaning mirrors, slick contortions
Minimizing its proportions
Or hide it, feebly to insist
That panoramas don’t exist
And the proffered edge for all to see
Is one as edificed by me.
But that’s just ego cotton wool.
It’s that turd inside that swimming pool.
It’s that crater you can see from space.
It’s the occupation of my face.
It’s the cynosure of ruined front
It’s that guy upstairs who’s just a cunt.
It’s Bigley, it’s a cockfight fray.
It’s impossible to look away.
It’s seizure of the not much cop
The receiver of some whistle-stop.
Abrupt and bare and always there.
It erupts straight through my nostril hair.
A leviathan come up for air.
It’s the burglar on my creaky stair.
It’s a forked and jutting self-aware
Pronouncement of my soul’s despair.
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