My one remaining blackened toenail has finally seen fit to quit the premises, so I once again have pristine toes, and no, Doc, there's no gangrene from diabetes down there, fuck you very much. The nail took a bit of persuading to come off, and I was initially worried that ripping the nail off would result in pain and bleeding. Luckily, I went after the rogue nail following a shower, when everything was soft and pliable. I had decided to cut my toenails, and that's what brought me face to face with the fact that Black Nail Number Two was ready to launch. A bit of gentle massaging later, and the nail left my foot as quietly as can be—no blood, no pain, no nothing: out with a whimper, not a bang. Thank Cthulhu. Underneath the ratty old nail, as it turns out, is a new nail that's already halfway regrown. So there's that.
May the departed nail rest in peace.
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