Monkey Bars Are The Devil...

Tomorrow, I'll be picking up Liv early from Day Camp so she can go to the doctor.  We're a little late on her six-year check-up, plus I want him to look at what you see on the palm of her hand in the picture above.  At the end of the school year, she was playing on the monkey bars a lot at school and developed a large blister on her palm.  We never popped the blister; we chose to leave it alone.  It hardened and looked more like a callous a few weeks later.  Now, however, it looks like a palmar wart (palmar meaning on the palm; plantar meaning on the foot...both are the same thing, but their locations are different), with roots and red streaks in it.  It's painful and embarrassing for her, so off we go to get it checked out.  I'm hoping they can freeze it and dig it out so that it doesn't take months of useless Rx's that won't take care of the problem fast enough.  Everyone knows there's no money in a cure, but if he keeps her coming back over and over for more methods of treatment, then he makes more money at her painful expense.  Let's just get this over with.  She has no idea what to expect and we're not talking about it until we know what our options are.  It only really took a little over a month, six weeks tops, for the blister to progress to what you see above.

Poor Livie!  She'll never do the monkey bars again.  I swear, that kid has picked up more illnesses, viruses, and germs in kindergarten than she has her whole life!  Geez.