Not baw-sack related but….
6 or so years back I finally bit the bullet and got a long-standing ingrown big toenail looked at. There and then, they said it had to come out.
It was apparently a ‘difficult’ one- lots of grunting and tearing sounds as they removed it- I daren’t look. Anyway, they patched it up, dressed it, gave me some medium strength painkillers (apparently I’d be needing them soon) and sent me on my way.
Jings. Later that evening, the burning, throbbing mess was almost unbearable. The pk’s just about took the edge off.
I couldn’t walk for a week- couldn’t put a sock on, couldn’t really weight-bear at all. Normally have an ok pain threshold- this was awful.
Gradually, over a week or so, it died down. Getting the dressing changed showed that they’d managed to rip a tear right down the middle of the nail bed. No wonder it was so bloody sore.
I managed to get a bath on the Sunday afternoon and could just about take tepid water on the toe itself. Things were improving. Got out of the bath, gingerly drying myself off- missus walks in, and with unerring accuracy managed to drive the spike of her left high-heeled shoe through the slightly softened scab.
I have little recollection of what happened next- the screaming I do remember, as well as her putting some painkillers she’d borrowed from her mother through the letter-box sometime later that day…