Poke poke poke


You’d think it would be a pretty easy decision. Someone offers to stab your Achilles with a very pointy injection, you’d straight up say NO FREAKING WAY.

But when it’s suggested in a medical setting, and the theory behind it seems sound, and it’s an option that has minimal recovery time, you’d be more likely to consider it. At least, I was. And while I am currently waiting to see if it was successful, I have to confess that I am left feeling slightly traumatised by the experience.

It hurt. Like a cow. To my credit I only dropped a handful of F-bombs, but if there was any way I could have forced myself through the bed and away from the burning pinch of those fucking injections, I would have.

But really, I know the question that is on your mind: Are those hideous bows visible through the boot?

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

The answer? A little bit. If you know what you’re looking for.

I still feel the pinch of shame when I think of them.

Anyway, this was me when I got home from the procedure. Keep in mind that it HURT. And that I was currently propped up on pain killers alone. The third fur baby was most likely keeping watch over the park, or waiting at the back door to play:

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

So the fur babies are helping and the pain killers are helping and the boot is protecting. But as much as I may sound like a bit of a wuss, I have to confess that it was bloody traumatic, just lying there on my tummy while someone inflicted that kind of pain. I got in the car afterwards and had a teary, and it still makes me a bit shaky when I think about it.

I therefore am trying not to think about it.

Instead I am thinking about some different crochet projects I have in mind. And giggling because I often refer to crocheting as hooking, and when I had to fill out some paperwork for Scouts a couple of weeks ago I had to list my interests, and top of the list was HOOKING.

Fuck em.

How’s your world shaping up this week?


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