The Little Wart That Could
Yesterday I had off of work due to Hopkins Graduation. How did I make the most the day? By going to the doctor’s to battle a pesky wart on my hand, of course.
The war began sometime around 12th grade. Telling my current the last time I had a doctor attempt to dry-ice this bad-boy off was at that time made me realize that was 5 years ago, which made me feel really old.
I have a vivid memory of deciding I was finished being plagued with the thing one day in AP Calculus. From the back of the room, between differentiation problems and infinite limits, I started picking away flakes and pieces. It started to bleed a little. I blotted it with a tissue and continued, determined to rid myself of the nuisance. With a final surge of endorphins, I jerked away what I am now guessing was the root. Free advice: don’t do this. It’ll likely bleed. A lot.
And… in my case, it came back. And after a few years, it spawned itself a friend.
Today, I have three half-sphere blisters, each about 2mm tall on my hand. The third is where I thought another was starting. After my doctor started applying copious amounts of dry ice to my skin and it hurt 10 times more than expected, I questioned whether or not that tiny discolored circle was really the start of a new wart.
I’m supposed to have an idea if it worked or if not in about 3 weeks. Hopefully white flags are on the horizon.
