I have been lying about this week, literally, as I have been unable to walk. Last Saturday, the outer edge of the sole of my left foot was sore. By Sunday, it was too painful to walk on, so I massaged my foot to see if it helped. As I massaged my foot, I felt a lump. When I pressed it, it was very sore.
On Monday I went to see my doctor and she felt the lump and said that it would have to come out, so (and this is where all you NHS patients are going to be green with envy) she sent me immediately to an orthopaedic surgeon, who agreed that it would have to come out. He told me to go down to the emergency theatre and his assistant would prepare me. This I did and in no time, the offending lump was removed. I have to say that I was very impressed, not only by the speed of the response to my problem, but also to the meticulous attention to cleanliness and hygiene.
It turned out to be a thorn! Goodness knows how long it had been circulating around in my body! I cannot remember the last time I had a thorn in my foot or anywhere else for that matter. (Although, Erol is convinced that I picked it up running barefoot while being chased by a lion in Africa.) Apparently, my body had cocooned the thorn into a ball of matter, and it wasn't until it had got to a place where it was uncomfortable to stand on that I actually noticed it! Anyway, tomorrow they change the dressing and on Monday I have the stitches out! Which, incidentally, is just as well as we are off to England on Tuesday?
By the way, if you would like to read of survival in Africa, please read my article here.