I will survive

Well, I survived the surgery.

Admittedly, there was little danger of me dying on the operating table, given that I had a local anaesthetic before my toenail was cut.

But it's good to have come out the other side.

Except that my toe now hurts like hell and I can't put my left shoe on.

So I am hopping around with a blue shoe normally given to people wearing plaster casts.

And I'm eating ibuprofen like M&Ms.

The reason for this unexpected level of pain is that the doctor, in his infinite wisdom, decided to remove the whole nail rather than just cut away a small section as originally planned.

Watched by a student doctor (and not by me) he attacked the offending nail with what looked like a huge pair of pliers.

As my toe was numb, I couldn't feel any pain, but was aware of the sensation of the metal crunching through to the skin.

Actually, the worst part was having the anaesthetic injections - the initial sting as the needles went in, followed by the strange sensation of feeling the fluid flow through the nerves, switching them off as it passed.

What I hadn't expected was the amount of blood which pumped from the freshly-denailed toe.

The required bandage looks like one from a cartoon, as if Jerry has just smacked Tom's toe with a hammer.

And how much sympathy have I had?

None. Not a bit. Mrs Wife was staying in Campbeltown last night for work, so I had to hop around the house and fend for myself.

Number of times I smacked said toe against doors and pieces of furniture: 3

Number of expletives uttered after said toe smackings: More than 3

One final piece of information. As I attempted to put my sock on (to no avail), I asked the doctor when I would be able to play football again.

His magnificent answer?

'When it doesn't hurt anymore'

Genius.