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Remember when warts were, like, "in"?
I don't mean in style in the fashion sense. I mean "in" as in talked about by advertisers and media. You know... like erectile dysfunction, and depression, and herpes, and all the myriad illnesses championed these days in TV and magazine ads.
When I was a kid, society's concerns (at least in that department) seemed to be simpler... more down to earth. Like dandruff. And bad breath. And stinky pits. And warts.
I remember the wart thing well because I had them. And Compound W ads were, in those days, inescapable. They started with a young woman crying. And someone asking, "Why the tears?" And her choked up reply was a sniffle and a single, painful word: "Warts."
Oh, the humanity.
Still... I guess the advertising worked. Because I tried Compound W. I also tried sliced raw potatoes. And every other going "cure" for warts in the day. Nothing seemed to make a difference. I had superwarts. Apparently immune to any and all human interventions.
I had this one on the inside of my right elbow. It was massive. Composed of many many long rooty things and protruding at least an inch (no exaggeration), it was roughly the size of a pencil eraser. And because it stuck out, it was always getting snagged on things... zippers, hems, sleeve holes, twigs when I was climbing trees.
It reached its peak of glory in about Grade 5. We were outside, high jumping... going over the bar onto a mat composed of chunks of foam, held together with netting. I was in my element. All the kids hated me, but I was fast and springy and a very good jumper. And so... as they raised the bar higher and higher... it came down to just me and one other girl still taking turns while the others stood and watched.
As I rolled across the mat after finishing my last jump, I felt this tugging on my elbow. And because it didn't hurt, I didn't realize I'd basically torn the wart off on the snaggy stringy netting. As I walked back to take my place for the next jump, the other kids started making faces, going "Ewwww!" and pointing and laughing... which (sad to say) was not at all unusual for me. So... again, I didn't really think anything of it. Until I saw all the blood.
I enjoyed a day of elementary school semi-fame... with kids paying positive attention to me. Instead of just making fun of me, they actually tried being nice... just so they could gawk at the gaping bleeding hole in my arm where the wart had been.
We searched some for the wart, too. But it must have ended up on the ground. Or lost somewhere in the spongy chunks of the highjump mat. Whatever. That was the end of my elbow wart. The hole healed and that was that. And that was the end of my warts in general.
Until I turned 40. Suddenly, the warts were back. And not in fun, easy places like my elbow. See that thing just above my eyelid? Yep, it's a wart. And... just like the one I used to have on my elbow, it's made of many rooty things and sticks way out... and it's growing at an alarming rate. I have a new one on one of my fingers, too... and it's not just rooty and sticky-outy... it has nice black hairs growing out of it!!!
The one by my eye will have to be removed (as have several others which were growing on the same eyelid). It's a fast, fairly painless procedure. My doctor dabs them with liquid nitrogen, they dry up and they fall off. Well... most of the time. The one you can see here has already been zapped twice. So I'm hoping it'll be third time lucky.
The one on my finger... that I'm keeping. It's not like it's in the way or anything. And... hmmm... who knows. I may even shoot it one of these days. After all, it's part of me. Part of who I am. Part (as I like to joke) of my Eastern European heritage.
So... yeah. This is me. Warts and all. It was just a test shot, but I really like the light... especially in the tulip leaves.