A little over a week ago I felt something poking in my foot after a barefoot run. It was in the most awkward place to get to, just forward of the outside edge of my heel. I also found a splinter in another part of my foot so I figured I got two of them while running across one of the wooden bridges at the park. The one I could get to wasn't bothering me at all so I left it. And I could feel the one by my heel every once in a while but it wasn't painful. I left it alone because I couldn't get to it anyway.
Normally splinters work themselves out as the skin wears away. One of them did. The one by my heel didn't; although it wasn't worse, it wasn't getting any better. I asked Kathy to dig it out.
When you ask Kathy to get out a splinter, she doesn't use just a pin and pair of tweezers. She also brings scissors, anti-bacterial ointment, bandages, and another ointment that numbs the wound. All the bases were covered.
She began poking around with a pin and pinching and pulling with the tweezers while Steph watched and grimaced. After a lot of digging with the pin, it was getting uncomfortable so she numbed it up. Kathy said there wasn't a splinter there and she wasn't seeing anything. The pin wasn't working so Steph encouraged her to use the scissors.
As Kathy carefully snipped at my callous, Steph stopped grimacing and got all goggle-eyed. "Oh, I am so going to be a surgeon."
And then Kathy found and removed a small piece of glass. Being the loving wife she is, she informed me this wouldn't happen if I was wearing shoes. True, but my daughter might end up with one less possibility of she wants to be when she grows up.
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