WARNING: Not for the faint of heart!

So Chad seems to have had a lot of in-grown toe nails in the past few years.  He has gone to the doctor to have them removed before, but he has started to just try and remove them himself the past few times.  And now working for a surgeon he has access to all the instruments and lidocaine so this last time he decided to set up his own O.R. in our bedroom and take care of those darn toenails himself.  He painfully endured numbing up his own toes but then realized that to really get the toenails out that he couldn't get the right angle and asked me to perform the "surgery" for him.  
I really didn't want to do it.  I stalled as much as I could thinking that he would get tired of waiting and just do it himself.  But the only pair of sterile gloves that he had was a 6 1/2.  Much too small for him (and me for that matter).  I finally gave in and started what will go down in books as my "first surgery".  He wanted to make sure that it was done right this time and so he got some kind of chemical to apply to the toe matrix to kill the root so it wouldn't grow in that area again.  It smelled like framaldahyde (I have no idea how to spell that) and the smell alone was making me sick.   I started to feel all flushed and my hands were starting to feel numb (probably the too small gloves).  Chad gave me step by step instructions and with great hesitation, I started to cut.   

I kept telling Chad that I was starting to feel sick.  He said how are you going to be a nurse if you can't handle this?  I told him that as a nurse I won't have to do the cutting.  And that the cutting (and the smell) was what was bothering me.  
I did finally finish, both toes on both sides of the toe (with the help of my noble assistant, Lafe). And for the record, I could never be a surgeon!

Oh, and if you got through this post and you are feeling a little bit queezy,  don't say I didn't warn you.