Train ride out there was nice, since it was going against the tide of the morning commute. I had the carriage mostly to myself and watched the bay go past, mainly drifting off into a Sim City reverie and planning various features out for my ongoing Sim Wellington project.
It's my equivalent of a model railway set.
The doctor needed some convincing. He was a tall and curiously shaped man who reminded me of an older, saggier version of the nerdy father from Back To The Future, and hummed and harred over my toes, staring at them as if he was waiting for the ingrown nails to magically fix themselves. When this failed to occur he prevaricated further, suggesting things like 'have you tried cutting them properly?'
I essentially grabbed the man by the lapels, pushed him against the wall and hissed in his face, 'mister, I am diabetic. I have managed to keep 35 kg of excess Dan from returning and really fucking up my day by causing my limbs to drop off. You will put me on the operating list right fucking now because walking hurts, and you will smile as you do so'.
Well okay, actually I just refused to play his game and kept bringing the conversation back round to surgery until he got the damn point. 150 dollars consultation fee later, I'm now on the public waiting list and have happily avoided paying roughly 2000 dollars to get my two big toes fixed. Should be a couple of months or so, during which time I will also obey the good doctors advice and try to fix some of the nail damage with proper cutting techniques.
It's a bit bullshit that the only reason I got to try out for the public option at all was because of my diabeetus. Apparently otherwise they'd only do it for free once the nail became massively infected and even touching the toe caused blazing agony.
...what?
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