I have the hands, said Caz, of a tap dancer, combined with the feet of a surgeon. she made these observations as she watched me turn off the hot tap in my bath with a deft flick of my ankle.
I told her the story of the tap dancers hands.
The soap bubbles were full of her laughter; they burst with joy.
Nurse Caz says that I am as bad as Frida Kahlo; taking photographs of my foot all day long.