I just think it doesn't sound quite right. When someone says, "I have a plantar wart," it's wayyy grosser than just, "I have a wart." Well, a teeny bit grosser. Because warts are gross. I should know. I had a wartfest in 8th grade, of all times. All over my hands.
My mom was all, "Soak cotton balls in vinegar and wring them out and put them on your warts with band-aids over them. That will get rid of them."
My poor mom. She really meant well. So off I went to 8TH GRADE, people, with hands that smelled like vinegar, had six band-aids on them, and were those fabric kinds, so every time I washed my hands, the band-aids would remain wet the rest of the day.
Junior high was good times for me. Good times.
In case you were wondering, no, the vinegar didn't work. So we did that medicine that you dab on the warts that's supposed to kill them. That didn't work. Then we froze them at the doc's office. That didn't work. Eventually, I had to go to an internal medicine doctor. He made me allergic to this stuff called DNCB by shooting it into my hip. Then we would apply the DNCB to my warts, and my immune system would attack them. It was very painful and involved exploding blisters.
IN THE 8TH GRADE.
I vividly remember sitting with my friend, Em, on a leather couch at a car dealership. My mom was getting her car serviced and was talking to the dude at the desk about something. I had some warts on my elbows, also. And one of the blisters on my elbow exploded, sending...wart juice...cascading down the cushions on this beautiful leather couch.
To say that Em was traumatized is an understatement.
I hurried and ran to the bathroom and got some paper towels wet and put some, like, hand soap on them, and came out and cleaned my bodily fluids off their beautiful couch.
Good, good times.
Are you starting to understand why boys didn't like me? Haha! I guess it molded me into the person I am today. Or whatever.
Um, huge tangent.
Kay, so I have this thing called plantar fasciitis. I've had it for three months. It's exceedingly painful. It started on the 4th of July. And nothing specific caused it. I just noticed that my heel hurt really badly. I thought maybe I had stepped on a pebble or something.
But the pain never went away. It felt/feels like a nail sticking straight up in the bottom of your heel bone. No, I don't know the name of that bone. I wondered if I had a bone spur or something.
Fortunately, I have a sister who's a physical therapist and a brother-in-law who is going to podiatry school. I had them look at it, and they let me know what it was - plantar fasciitis.
So the fascia on the bottom of your foot is like this sheet that goes from the ball of your foot and attaches to your heel bone. And somehow, my sheet just suddenly got really, really tight. The pain manifests itself in a person's heel, where the fascia attaches. I went and got some heel inserts, but later found out that I actually need arch support inserts. You have to stretch the fascia out to heal it. It hurts especially if you have been at rest, because when your foot is at rest, it's not flexed. It's kind of...pointed. In a relaxed way. So when you stand up, your foot is suddenly at that 90 degree angle, which stretches the fascia and causes pain.
So the arch supports keep your fascia stretched out all the time, which in theory is supposed to heal plantar fasciitis.
My sis is visiting from Chicago, and she checked out my foot again. She showed me how to tape it with athletic tape, which has provided a lot of relief:
She has me apply heat in the morning, then stretch my foot. At night, I have to get a butterknife and roll it back and forth on my heel. There are these little bumps on my heel that have developed through this whole process that I actually have to crunch with my knife and break down. It hurts like a Mother. Then I apply ice.
And Ben got me this thing to wear at night:
Most people I know who have had this have it for about six months, until it just "goes away." Or until they get surgery on it. I hope I will be one of the former people instead of one of the latter people. I'm still able to exercise, albeit with much pain. I'm still able to hobble around and take care of my family, so I'm mainly functional. But it hurts. All the time.