This was an excruciating little toe corn that was dug in. Deep.
The patient couldn't even wear trainers without it throbbing and last had it treated over a decade earlier.
With pinky toe corn removal, you have to be sure to get ALL the fragments of hard skin.
(If not, they still irritate)
If they're years old, like this one, there's almost always some riiiiight at the bottom.
The soothing cream I used at the end was Gehwol Mint.
Here we have an almost perfect example of a pinky-toe corn.
An early one. One before it's dug really deep. In other words, one that is probably home treatable.
To be fair that's why this corn removal was so easy, I had to slow the video down.
(Not like this twenty-year old beast)
I carved it out one-handed (my Go-Pro is metaphorically in the post), so please forgive any jitters.
In my humble opinion, cosmetic surgery peaked in '92 with Pammie Anderson on Baywatch.
Nobody needed clocks in those halcyon days 30 years ago.
Every dad in the UK would dutifully sit on the sofa at 7 pm with an almost supernatural sense of timing.
Anyway, now the cutting and lifting are more inflated than I ever thought possible.
If, for some reason, you opt to get your toes removed, surgeons will always keep two of the five.
Your humble pinky toe is an unsung hero. Thanks to it, you know where the next unstable inch of ground lurks.
(Or if that step from the cab is too far after six Mojitos)
But what do you do as a way of thanks? You clamp, pinch and crush it all day long.
Yet, like a fairground fighter, it takes its licks. It recovers in silence and does the same the next day. And the one after.
Sometimes, though, those bouts take their toll. Instead of a slur and thick ears, you get callus and pain on your pinky toe.
It's that time (again) for my favorite dinner-table topic: thick yellow foot skin.
This one is all about pinch callus. That hard skin ridge that runs up the base of your painful pinky toe.
Or a mustard-colored clump on the side of your big toe.
Why do these areas attract pinch callus? Why do you get it?
(It means you've got a little toe that juts under — or a big toe that twists off to the side)
And how do you get rid of it? At least for a while.
The tiny toe that gets big abuse. A painful pinky-toe is the foot-finger I treat the most — and it's no wonder.
Tight shoes, your BMI and four fat digits bully the baby one.
Sat down in the South Pole of your body, it's a warning beacon for potential threats. Hazards such as unstable ground, a kick too hard and....baseboards.
The drawback with these keen soreness sensors is the reason for pinky-toe pain can be tough to tell.
Not to mention, it's not exactly easy for you to get a good look...
In shoes that squeeze, does every step pinch your pinkie toe?
Have you got hard skin there that hurts when you press down on it?
Do you get instant relief when you're free of footwear?
Sorry to break it to you, but you may be the owner of a corn on your pinky-toe. The little digit is prone to pick up them up.
They throb, oh do they throb, but they aren't too hard to get rid of — and keep away.
Ah, pinky-toe pain.
It can be from something mundane like chafing, to the more exotic e.g. an accessory toenail.
Hard corns happen here, too.
But there's another, more hateful, explanation. One that'll force you to switch your Fendi's for flip-flops.
(Or how about toilet roll 'tween your toes or slippers 24/7? I've seen both).
I am, of course, referring to the infamous soft corn aka heloma molle.
And if you ID one early, you can save an expensive visit to the Podiatrist.
A toe hangnail you get as regular as utility bills.
An accessory toenail that regenerates no matter how many times you rip it out.
You cut it back, it grows back. You yank it out and its spiky little head rears again.
This vexatious little nail flourishes on the outside of your little toe. Most aren't sure what they are (including quite a lot of Podiatrists).
How do you get rid of this PITA split pinky toenail? And what the hell is a Lister Corn?