Saint Judy of Auckland

So I cut myself up pretty badly in Hawaii - six or seven inconsequential lacerations and one big fat chunk out of my instep that's left me without much ambulation for the last week.
I'd been splashing on Bettadine and Band Aid Liquid Skin (the US version doesn't peel off, it just slowly biodegrades on your foot - I was unsure, given the surgical care with which they scrubbed up to swab any rainforest mud from my trainers, if I should declare it as a biohazard at NZ customs) alternately for days. You can't live on the beach and not swim, sunbathe, snorkel, just a little bit, during your last ever days in Hawaii, and the damn beach decided to bond with my flesh every single day. I tried borrowing a bicycle to keep my flip flops clean and fresh and free from sin or taint, but then fell off in the sand while admiring the (cough) views at Banzai. And no bugger would lend me their skateboard.

So trapped in a sleepless hell of jet lag on arrival in Auckland, I wanted to rid myself of evidence of my battles with the sea. Got my straw-hair cut, got me to a doctor to check out my foot. It's been a week now since I ripped the flesh out (well, less in real terms, but datelines mystify me), and I certainly can't hike on it. Have some problems just adopting this cold-country habit of wearing shoes. Had no idea if I could sea dive or sky dive.

Doc Judy charged me $54 to look at my foot. Pronounced it perfectly dressed and healing well, congratulated me on being better equipped for first aid than most trippers.
Congratulations my arse, said the jet lagged monster that coils its poison deep inside my undersea head. For $54 I want you to lay your healing hands on it, bitch.

She redeemed herself: by taking an interest in the rest of the trip; says I can scuba, sky dive, etc ... that hiking's the only no-no while I'm here. But clued me up on dangers in the south pacific if the thing isn't entirely healed within the week.
Doc Judy, who loves manga cartoons, who doesn't heal with her hands, and charges $1 a second to heal with her eyes, ran through everything I had in my first aid pack, and then gave me all these drugs:
There's a swedish vaccine called Dukoral that protects you from 60% more diarrhoea infections than antiobios, and two vaccinations last you two years. There's also all sorts of antibios and stuff that kill the giardia and dysentery and respiratory infections that I'll run into in SE Asia even if I escape them in the S Pacific. Bactroban cream, Augmentin tablets, Noroxin and Metronidazole. All together costing less than her cursory glance and my socked feet.

Rightfully, I should be calling for her hagiography to Pope Doc Judy. Even her typing was forty times faster than my UK doctor.

But every time I feel good about it, I remember I have to stay awake two extra hours without food tonight so I can give myself this damn vaccination, and how she earnt $54 plus tax for looking at my foot.
Dammit.