Daystar Clarion said:
I've had ingrown toenails too, and while not necessary the most excruciating pain I've ever felt, it's constant.
Every slight bump is agony, I was always very conscience about where my feet were, shifting my weight etc.
So glad I got the nails on both my big toes permanently removed.
Now, for the worst pain I've ever felt.
Appendicitis. The night before I went into hospital was the longest, most agonising night of my life, like someone was twisting my guts around their fist.
I can understand why people get addicted to morphine.
That shit is awesome and takes effect almost instantly.
Take morphine bribes from the doctor, Homer Simpson style!
I have a toe story, too. I went on an eight mile walk, and my shoes were two sizes too small and I was carrying a very heavy bag. Long story short, my feet started killing me, but the trip overseers refused to let me walk without my shoes, despite the fact I've been walking barefoot over gravel since I was a toddler. I've got mad hobbit feet.
Anyway, I pry off my shoes at the end of the day after limping home at a snail's pace. The toes are puffed up and bright red bruised, and my big toe it oozing blood. The underside of the nail had turned completely red. It took a year for all the blood to work its way out and another for the toe to stop looking weird.
Due to a problem with the NHS being backed up like a porn star taking it doggy style and some very irresponsible behavior on my part, I had something to this effect:
This was infuriating. At first, pain killers would dull the pain. Regardless, I would find it very difficult to sleep, and when I woke up, I'd be in sleep paralysis with this agony in full swing. Then I'd get out of bed, storm downstairs. Then we'd be out of pain killers. What with school systems being touchy about dispensing pain medication, school was hell, and I'd just sit at the back of my lessons trying not to punch through my desk. Then the pain killers stopped working. Over the next week, I went skits. I still tried to get paracetamol and ibuprofen to work, and one day, my mum directed me to some pain medication. There on the table lay ibuprofen and paracetamol. But next to it? Next to it lay the prescription medication for my mother's back problem (which later had to be surgically corrected with bone grafts and shit, just to give you an idea) this was serious "omfg let's drug elephants" style pain medication. I took some.
For an hour, nothing. Then it slightly dulled the pain, which comparatively was bliss. Then it knocked me out for three hours. When I woke up, no pain. I nearly converted to religion, I was so happy. Then my dental appointment came through, and all was well, and I was one filling happier.
That said, don't get the wrong idea, my teeth are fine. I'm not going around with yellow lumps of mold for teeth, they look normal.
Anyway, in the summer holidays I got stabbed in the leg. Punched the guy out and limped home, losing three pints or so of blood along the way. Poured vodka on it, etc. Bound it up, and stayed in bed for a week or so before taking it easy.
Oh, then I was given a "Britain legal" butterfly knife for my birthday. What I did not know was that this meant the handles were spring loaded, so that you need two hands to pry it open. It closes very hard. I was taking it through exercises I'd looked up to loosen handles of knew butterfly knives. It snapped shut on my finger and cut it to the bone.
After prying it out of me, and bleeding everywhere, I sighed, wrapped it up in toilet paper, put my hands in my jacket pockets, and went downstairs to seek help. My mum was on the phone, and I was like "yeah, I need some help", she was like "in a minute", so I said "take your time"
A few minutes later, she puts down the phone, asks what's up, and I pull out my hand wrapped in dripping, blood soaked tissue. The look on her face made it all worth it. That said, it wasn't all that painful to me. I guess after a while, you get a threshold for coping with extended injury.
