I love the hiatus of summer, but I do miss the action of class and friends during the school year—and all the activities that surround college life. I am told that these are the salad days of your life, not to be missed. Summer is a time of reflection, however, and I like to write and get a little ahead on some projects I have going, Nashville can be an exciting town with music pouring out of its ears during the season; but in the summer, people lie low and veg. Not me.
I have words of wisdom and tales to tell. My brain keeps going even in the heat. In fact, without school it has to have something to preoccupy it. I wish I had something profound, but given the time of year and the lazy vibe it brings, I will recount a mundane obsession I once had with my feet.
Yes. I said feet. Who cares about them? Most guys don’t, but….
I once had a toenail fungus in my left big toe threatening to spread like wildfire to the adjacent ones. How did I know? The larger nail was yellow and I could see a faint darkening beginning to happen next door. The big toe was blatant and unmistakably afflicted and I had never seen this on me much less any of my family or friends. Guys my age don’t go to the doctor, so online I went with great conviction. The Internet has every solution to every problem, if you can believe any of them! There were so many posts and ads that I figured it must be a pretty widespread issue. Thousands of entries from the medical sites like WebMD.com to smaller blogs like NiceFeet.net that are dedicated to a cure for toenail fungus.
It takes an inquiring mind to sort through this maze of material. Maybe it is a good exercise, but most likely a waste of time. I am not going to recommend it for everyone, but it seemed like the only way to go at the time. I certainly learned about what is buried in the Internet. The pictures were helpful for confirmation of my condition, but the remedies were ridiculous. I was not going to make a concoction so I elected to buy a ready-made elixir. (I love that word.)
Which one? I initially chose the one with a fancy doctor spokesperson hoping that he wasn’t degrading himself by touting the miracle potion. Would he lend his name to something that didn’t work? Yes. So I moved on. I landed on a simple recipe that took very little effort. Not caring about the whitest sheets, I had to buy some bleach and athlete’s foot powder. I had the beer. Not a smelly mixture, I applied it religiously for a week.
I would like to report that the do-it-yourself approach worked, evoking considerable pride and a pinch of self-congratulatory glory. Who doesn’t like to boast about success? I don’t know if I would take this road for just any “medical condition” but this time was the charm. I want to make a point about taking charge of your life, even the little things and learning to adapt as you go along. The small positive outcomes can mean the most sometimes.