WARNING: YUCKY PICTURES AHEAD!
I find pharmacies one of the most embarrassing places on earth, like just last week when I was on the hunt for preparation-H...
Dr. Steve, my chiropractor, suggested that I go and get some. Now you may be asking yourself, "What gives a chiropractor special knowledge about hemorrhoids?"
And my answer would be, "Nothing."
He doesn't know anything about hemorrhoids but being a runner and triathlete he does know about blisters. He saw my feet shortly after the Around the Bay 30K and wondered what had happened to me. Why had I gotten so many blisters? I sheepishly had to admit that no I hadn't trained a whole lot, the longest walk I'd done before this was two and a half hours long. And no I wasn't breaking in new shoes, in fact my shoes were ancient and had holes in the toes (which I actually thought — wrongly I might add — would be comfortable as they gave my toes more space). But, even though I broke 2 cardinal rules about training and participating in such an event, he took pity on me and shared an old runner's remedy with me.
Apply preparation-H to blisters. It helps dry them up.
So, I'm in Shopper's Drug Mart looking high and low for this hemorrhoid cream and for the life of me I can't find it anywhere. I realize that I'm going to have to ask for help locating it and curiously I begin to feel all embarrassed just like I was the first time I had to go in and purchase "feminine products". I don't want to say aloud, "Hey, I'm looking for hemorrhoid cream", or "hey, I'm looking for preparation-H" (which everyone knows is for hemorrhoids) but it looks like I have no choice. So I choose just the right moment when no one's in sight, slide up to the pharmacist and ask in as quiet a voice as I can, and still be heard, "Can you tell me where I can find preparation-H?"
"Over there in isle 6, left side, bottom shelf towards the end of the aisle," he says in a booming voice accompanied by a broad sweeping arm gesture.
Thanks a lot.
Moments after I pluck it off the shelf a big, tall guy, who'd been hovering around that very spot, begins to chat me up, "My mother has, um," he begins, a little tongue-tied, "the same, the same problem, um, that you have..."
His mother must be 80. ACK!
"Oh, no, no, no," I throw my hand up in the cease and desist gesture. "I don't have hemorrhoids. Nope, not me," I'm speaking as quickly as possible to stop that train coming down the tracks and I free my foot from my sandal in an instant and begin flashing its blister ridden surface in his face (I can do this, I'm a yogi) as I hop around on the other. "See, I have blisters on my feet from running. It's supposed to help heal them."
"You're a runner then."
"Yup, I am. I run. I run lots" (OK, OK it's a little fib) and then I left him standing in the hemorrhoid isle as I limped away with my ointment in my hand.
It took 2 nights of applying the cream but it did work on the blister you see. This one I earned last week from walking in Soft Moc athletic sandals (not quite as kind to my feet as I thought they'd be). The other blisters on the heel are taking a little longer probably because the skin's thicker. And, my little toe's just about finished shedding its skin like a snake — lovely.