All for the want of a horseshoe nail.

I would not consider a visit to the podiatrist embarrassing, but I have a friend who does. I'm not allowed to mention her name here. I can't even, in all good conscience, give her a nick name.

(Pointless clue: It is not the Patented Burp. I do have other friends other than the Burp. And she, because her life is not sad and desperate, has friends other than me.)

But I rang up this friend to check on our plans for the weekend and the she whispered, "I have to go. I have an appointment."

I whispered back, "Okay, but why are we whispering?"

"Because it's very embarrassing. You can't tell anyone. I'm going to see the podiatrist."

At this point in the conversation my voice returned to its normal decibel level: "Wait - you mean a foot doctor??"

"Yes! Shhh!"

"What's so embarrassing about that?"

"I have an ingrown toenail and I find it embarrassing."

And, you know, that's a pretty compelling argument.

I wouldn't be embarrassed to be told by a medical professional that I had an ingrown toenail, but here are a few things I would be embarrassed by:

1. "That is the most searing case of syphillis I've ever seen."
2. "The reason you are experiencing difficulty with your bowel movements would appear to be directly related to the large foreign object you've got stuck up there."
3. "You got real bad case Ed Zachary disease."*


*I don't expect you to get that joke.