The point?

I was sitting in my doc's office, killing time while a personal call was being wrapped up. I switched crossing my legs,and noticed my jean hem was flipped. The secretary told me to go in, before I could tame the errant denim.
While Doc perused my file, checking notes and asking basic questions, I pulled my leg up to play with the hem. Thinking I was curling up, Doc tried to re-open communication.
"Considered going to a dermatologist? The video you mentioned a friend shared seems to be important. It's the first thing that came to mind when I asked if you'd seen anything interesting."
"Perhaps, I seem to be on a health kick lately."
"Along with adventurous streak... new scar? Your ankle."
"Yeah... poison ivy. I'm really sensative to it. To avoid it spreading, it needed to be eraticated."
"So you chose a scar over maybe a week of discomfort?"
"I chose a scar over a month of spreading itchiness. I take a while to heal. I'm not a masochist."
We talked of other scars, stumbles, stories and hopeful adventures. Before I left, Doc asked what part of town would I want to live in. Near businesses like I am now, a quiet cul de sac or gated community,all shiney and new?
"Ah, Doc... I want a spot in the country, ivy be damned. Maybe in that, I am a masochist."
Doc closed my file, smiling.
"Guess that house must be worth the sting."
Now I just have to find it. Talk about dreaming big... I hate being in debt... But I dislike feeling like I'm tossing money away more.