Published: Monday, August 9, 1993
Section: DAILY BREAK , page B1
Source: By Alex Marshall, Staff writer

THE STORY OF HOW I conquered and vanquished the strange, alien-like creatures that marched and multiplied across the soles of my feet for a decade may not be nice, it may not be pretty, but it needs telling, for those who face similar struggles need hope, examples that glory and victory comes to those who persist.

They – the warts that is – first appeared in the late 1970s. There were just two at first, right under the ball of each foot, so I felt them when I put my weight down.

I went to a dermatologist, the one who treated my teenage zits. He carefully froze them with liquid nitrogen and sent me on my way.

But the warts came back. Nitrogen worked on one or two warts on my thumb and hand, but foot warts were like Japanese guerrilla fighters, refusing to give up their positions even under the most withering fire.

So I did what I often do with long-term problems. I ignored them.

But they did not ignore me. While I finished college, lived in Europe for two years, taught high school, traipsed through Central America, became a writer, went to graduate school, got hired as a reporter and got married, my warts continued their slow march across my feet.

They were more persistent than Kempsville suburbs.

As the 1990s began, I found myself with, it’s hard to admit, more than 30 warts on the bottoms of my feet. Pea- to nickle-sized. I know, it’s disgusting. I fill with self-loathing just talking about it.

Still, I might have kept on ignoring them, but my wife was beginning to look at me funny. And they hurt when I walked.

So I declared total war. It was the only way I would get rid of them, I told myself. No pity. No quarter given. Lasers were the thing, I told myself. Move in the big artillery.

But the laser doctor, a dermatologist in a brick medical bunker on First Colonial Road, had bad news. I had so many warts that a laser would take off about half my foot along with the warts. I would be in bed several weeks afterward, maybe more. And it would be very painful.

So he recommended a different strategy. Weaken the bastards with liquid nitrogen and acid for a few months, then club them over the head with a laser.

Trouble was, my super-hardy warts didn’t weaken. They seemed to thrive under the acid and nitrogen as if I had been sending them to a health club. Eventually we moved up to acid so strong that the dermatologist handed it to me with shaking hands and elaborate instructions on how to avoid burning holes in my head or car.

But the warts didn’t flinch.

I was getting worried. What if these things crawled up my ankles to my throat? I was really having problems walking at this point. The treatments had made them larger and more painful.

My dermatologist, who was an open-minded kind of guy, had an idea. Let’s attack the beasts from the other end of your body, your head, he said. Biofeedback and hypnosis had been used with some success to train people’s bodies to reject warts and other skin problems.

But a guy at Eastern Virginia Medical School told me, after testing me with various gizmos, that biofeedback would probably take six months of daily sessions and cost thousands of dollars, most of which my insurance would not cover.

I didn’t like it but decided to try it. And curing warts through biofeedback and hypnosis would be a pretty good story. But that’s not what happened.

My wife visited a local chiropractor, Dr. Carl Nelson, bless his name and soul forever. She mentioned my wart problem, and he recalled a treatment he had heard about developed at the Mayo Clinic.

Here it is.

Soak your feet in hot water, he said, for 15 minutes a night for two weeks. Take 100,000 units of Vitamin A a day, only start this a few days before the hot water treatment and continue for just one week. During the treatment itself, take at least 1,000 units of Vitamin C a day. After each treatment, rub liquid vitamin E on the warts.

The theory was that warts were viruses. And as viruses, heat should kill them. The vitamins somehow boosted the process along. This was a ridiculous notion, and I had no faith in it. But I tried it.

Every night I soaked my feet in a plastic tub. I couldn’t stand the 118-120 degrees Nelson recommended, only about 112 degrees. I used the vitamins he recommended.

My crusty foot crustaceans didn’t change during the treatments, but a week or so afterward, I noticed all the warts had turned black. And then they slowly shrank, leaving my feet wart-free in a few weeks.

As they are right now, more than a year later.

All this leaves only one question.

Who put together the massive conspiracy of laser doctors and dermatologists to keep this simple, cheap treatment a secret?

My laser guy, who I called with the news, was actually pretty interested in my treatments and not that surprised. He said the Vitamin A might have as much to do with it as the hot water. This vitamin had had some success in spurring the body to gather its defenses together and beat skin problems. Because my body essentially rejected the warts, I was now probably immune to them, something that doesn’t happen with lasers. So why hadn’t he mention it?

Well, he said, most people, believe it or not, get angry if they come for a simple laser cure and you tell them to take a hot bath. And Vitamin A, taken in large doses for too long, could be harmful.

The lesson of all this, besides the inefficacy of Western medicine, is that if you work at something long enough, you may win in the end. Even against warts.