Let me introduce myself: I am the person attached to the useless yet extremely painful protuberance called a bunion. There is in fact, nothing great about it, but it is truly British. And in 10 days time I intend to remove this hallux valgus with a surgical intervention.
Hallux vulgaris - I've just made up this new name because it is more descriptive. I rather like the sound of this new one. At least I prefer it to the the more common bunion.
Bunion is such an ugly word, curiously appropriate, however, for the glowing bulbous barnacle attached to my left foot.
I now understand why when I was young, women would refer self-consciously to their "enlarged toe-joints". Whilst my metarsal bone is actually more painful than the bunion itself, I was rather tempted, briefly, to say I needed an operation on my metatarsal.
After all, this hitherto unknown bone gained fame some years ago when David Beckham injured his. I felt that if I went round saying metatarsal, I would be associated with the sporting fraternity. This was pure fantasy on my part as my rotund frame gives lie to the remotest association with sporting activity past or present.
Having been built for comfort and not speed, I have always been attracted to safe comfortable shoes.
I was a Start-rite/Clarks child who always wore shoes that fitted, and even when old enough to choose my own, always wore sensible shoes. Any experiences of even small kitten heels have resulted in painfully throbbing pieds... So you could say I have actually tried to look after these plates of meat.
But it's all in the genes.
My grandmother had a pair of champion bunions.
I remember watching fascinated as she tackled her corns, and asked her why she didn't have hers removed. The answer was that some woman down the road had had hers done and it had left her crippled.
It was an indelible image.
So the reason for writing this blog is to chronicle my experience in the hope that it is informative to others contemplating the operation.
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