The Becks files .


Double, Double Toil & Trouble

The surgical procedure I had today required them to remove the broken bone from my foot. This bone has been causing me chronic pain for 8 months now and by the time I permanently take off Walt the Moon Boot, this will have been going on for just shy of a year. This, as well as feeling it could make a really quirky and fun piece of jewellery slash conversation starter, is why I asked the surgeon if I could keep it.

He was not impressed.

Look – when you cut a baby out of someone in a C-section, they’re allowed to keep it, right? I’m not clear on the details here, so correct me if I’m wrong. I don’t have any babies and that foot bone is probably the closest thing I’m gonna get; it’s from my body and as far as I’m concerned, it belongs to me! Buuuut, unable to bear the agony of the surgeon shaming me out about it again, I let it go.

So, imagine my surprise when I was coming to in the recovery room and a friendly, completely anonymous employee of the hospital held up a little jar with my trophy bone in it! The surgeon had put it there so I could “see” it before it was disposed of in the appropriate manner. My eyes lit up immediately and in my drug haze, I asked if I could please keep it. The nurse deliberated for a moment as I implored her with my insane gaze and eventually said “…Okay, but you can’t tell anyone and you have to hide it! I’ll get in so much trouble if anyone finds out.” (Look, I realise I’m telling a ‘few’ people here, but I assume she meant the hospital staff, so I’m gonna go with that). She shoved it under my blanket and quickly walked away.

At this point, I hid the bone in my devilishly attractive hospital-issue-paper-pants (oh yes, I know what I just said), until my bag was returned to me some time later. Desperate times evidently do call for desperate measures. The point is, I escaped with MY bone .

When I took it out later to have a look at this tiny break in this tiny bone that has caused me agony for so long, it was obvious that there was still human tissue attached to it. I assume the human tissue also belongs to me, but I cannot be sure.

No one wants to see a bone from someone’s insides, let alone if it’s still covered in goo. This is what led me to conduct a Google search of the words, “What’s the easiest way to remove human flesh from bone,” thereby besmirching my glowing browser history and compromising my pleas of innocence in any future murders I wish to commit.

Since I’ve run out of hydrogen peroxide, I was really pleased to see that simply boiling the bone will not only clean it up, but sterilise it too! And then I can keep it forever on my mantlepiece as a reminder of that time when my foot hurt for a year for a reason I still cannot identify, resulting in not only the need to have a bone surgically removed, but in the befriending and naming of an inanimate object, Walt the Moon Boot, in an effort to reduce my resentment of the situation and slow my rapid decline in the depths of mental hell.

So, when I’m up and about, I’m gonna boil that bone. And when I do, I’ll be singing things like, “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble,” and I’ll never again have to live another day on this earth where I cannot honestly say, “I have boiled the flesh off human bones.” And truly, I could not be happier about that.

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