Hanging on by my Nails


Really, that should read ‘Hanging on TO my nails’ but what care we for convention?!  One of the side effects of the FEC-ing chemo I am to have is that it will muck about with my nails.  Or at least, it is a side effect that many report.  One of the drugs reacts with the UV light and hey presto!  The yellowing nails of a serious smoker result.  On top of this, ridges form, a bit like rings through tree trunks, for each cycle of chemo.  And sometimes, nails may actually fall off.  Sounds super, doesn’t it?

Consequently, I am keen to avoid this.  Apparently, a bit of attention and a lick of varnish could make all the difference.  I have never been good at doing my nails.  I hesitate to confess it, but I am actually a nail biter.  Not through nerves.  Just sheer idleness.  Why use a pair of scissors when I have a perfectly good set of gnashers that will do the job without have to shift my lardy arse?  For now, though, I am a changed woman.  It may be temporary.  It almost certainly will be temporary.  But currently I am the proud owner of all sorts of manicure accoutrements.  Who knew there was so much to buy?

There are inevitably problems.  The first is: I have no skill.  This is not me being modest.  It is a genuine impartial assessment of my nail painting talent.  The second problem is: to block the UV light out, I need to paint in a dark colour.  So we have no skill + dark nail varnish?  This is not a happy combination.  The third and final obstacle is: since surgery, my left arm shakes when I try to use my fine motor skills.  Thus rendering my incompetence even worse.  Despite practising for many days, I am not improving.  Think five year old let loose in Mummy’s make up drawer.  So bad are my efforts that the Captain has come to my rescue.  Just look at that picture of him as he tackles my tootsies.  What a star!