Yes, I might somewhat be exaggerating, but the image above is a relatively accurate representation of what I did on my 33rd birthday.
It all started 4 days prior when Madam Ohana accidentally knocked over a candle holder.
It shattered into a million-little-like-splinter-pieces and to cut a long cleaning story short, I missed one piece which later pierced into my foot.
I was hoping it would somehow work itself out. Nope and fast forward, that’s how I end up at the doctor on my birthday.
The build-up to my afternoon appointment drove me crazy. Thoughts of how they possibly could remove the piece of glass was haunting me every second. I was a nervous wreck.
There we sat, me almost at breaking point.
The doctor calls us in.
Inside the consultation room, I pace up and down asking all sorts of questions. I had to make sure the doctor knew I was nervous. She then instructs me to lie down and proceeds with a little pain test to see if anesthetics is needed.
I wish I knew exactly what to expect, it completely threw me off guard. I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone. Also, I’m sorry Mom, I couldn’t control my words.
My foot was penetrated by the satan of all needles; from the soft arch to the ball. The pain didn’t get better either. It kept getting worse and worse. Then suddenly, numbness.
It was by far, the worst physical pain I have ever experienced. Ryan said it looked as though the needle was on its way out to the other side of my foot. After that it was a whole lot of Dutch I’m thankful to have not understood, prodding, pushing, me almost kicking the doctor in the face and whole lot of digging, to find a very disappointingly small piece of glass. As in, a few millimeters.
PS: the waiting room was on the other side of the wall that I was screaming into