Sheepish. That’s the best way of describing how I feel right now as I try to type this with a frozen thumb and index finger.
It all started around 10 o’clock this morning, when I was putting a heavy TV on a tall shelf. The television slipped, I grabbed it to save it from falling onto the floor, and my thumb collided with the edge of the shelf. A rather substantial splinter jammed itself underneath the nail of my thumb and straight through to the other side, almost but not quite breaking the skin of the thumb’s pad. Try as I might, I couldn’t get that splinter out.
I knew if I did nothing it would get infected, so….off I went to the doctor this afternoon. He took one look at it and called the surgeon and sent me, my by now throbbing thumb, and my very red face off to the emergency ward. I apologized profusely for coming to emergency for a splinter, but the doctor was very understanding. A bit of freezing, a quick tug with some pretty fancy looking tweezers, a bandage job and a perscription for Novo Lexin, and I was good to go.
This isn’t the first time a member of our family has had a rather silly ‘medical moment’. When Alan was about four years old he stuck a small stone in his ear and Joe, who was with him at the time, couldn’t get it out. So off to the doctor they both went. I think it was a particularly busy day because they had to wait a long time to see the physician. And then what happened just as they were about to be seen? The stone just fell out all on its own.
Then there was the year that it felt like we practically lived in the emergency ward. We were in Toronto for the school year while Joe worked on his Masters. Iris was a toddler, and she used to run through the house with her body facing one direction and her head the other. Consequently she was always running into things and getting big bumps on her noggin. I was always concerned about concussions so off we’d go yet again to have her checked out. I was afraid the hospital would think we were abusing the poor child, but I guess they’ve seen enough lumps and bumps to recognize her injuries for what they were.
And Jamie? With him it was more the dentist than the doctor. He had just gotten his adult teeth the first time he hit them on the monkey bars at school and smashed them – badly. I didn’t think they’d ever recover. They did, but every few months he’d hit them again and have to go back for another repair job.
Thank goodness for good medical and dental coverage!