On
Tuesday, I mistook my thumb for a carrot and sliced clean through the top of
it. Well, not actually clean through the top of it, that makes it sound like a
pre planned neat and tidy operation. It was more like whilst chopping said
vegetable for my son and his friend’s tea, I came across what my brain, in that
instant, registered to be a stubborn carrot. In response, I pushed down harder,
to sever this tough piece of sausage and chips garnish, at which point my brain
clocked that I was actually and quite forcefully, scything off the end of my
right thumb. The blood flowed. There was claret everywhere, which is why kitchen
roll exists. Wrapped around my injured digit, blood soaked into the extra ply
tissue paper. Dinner was served, then whilst my son and his mate played on the Wii, I hoped the bleeding would magically stop. Alas, it was not to be. As I drove
my son’s friend home, with more kitchen roll saving the day, I fully
appreciated the value of my thumbs, as I discovered that driving without my
right thumb required a concerted effort. Two hours after being butchered and
the blood still gushing forth, I took myself and my thumb to the Urgent Care Centre at Lewisham hospital.
The
waiting room was full of unexpected emergencies with tired looking people staring
with concerned faces. I booked myself in and after a short wait, was seen by a
nurse, just as the soaking piece of kitchen roll, wrapped around my thumb, was
being rendered useless. The nurse told me I would need a tetanus jab and
endeavoured to put a bandage over my thumb. He began to unroll the bandage,
wrapping it around my hand and asked quite sternly, as if I was being
deliberately obstructive, “can you please straighten your thumb?” I looked him
in the eye, in all seriousness and replied, “sorry, no I can’t. I have an
unnaturally bendy thumb,” which is absolutely true – I cannot straighten my
thumbs. When I give a thumbs up, it’s like looking at a boomerang. Anyway, he
gave me a strange look and continued working around my curvy thumb.
Two
hours of waiting around followed, sometimes sitting, sometimes pacing the
brightly lit corridor. The drinks machine was empty. There were no cups for the
water fountain. As I wandered aimlessly around, I realised that I was following
my own trail of blood. I let the nurse know and offered to clean it up. “Don’t
worry, it’s seen much worse,” he answered. There was a woman I recognised from
the school run in the waiting room. She was experiencing chest pains and I hope
she is O.K.
Eventually,
I was seen by a doctor, who gave me the tetanus shot and then began to remove
the bandage. “Straighten your thumb
please,” he ordered to which I had to laugh, “I really can’t” I answered, “I’ve
got a super bendy thumb.” He saw the funny side, “Oh, I see,” he said and
laughed back. With the bandage removed, bleeding stopped, cut cleaned up and a
couple of strips of plaster to keep the
end of my thumb attached, I was on my way.
I salute
the doctors, nurses and staff of the NHS, who work at our hospitals, keeping
communities afloat, as the people suffer unexpected, random injuries and are struck down by strange illnesses. Without the NHS we would simply fall apart as a
society. This Conservative government tried to close Lewisham A&E recently
but the people fought back and kept it open. The nearest hospital in my borough
would have been three bus journeys and an hour and fifteen minutes away. Your
local hospital is such a vital institution and without greater funding, the NHS
is at huge risk. I witnessed it in action on Tuesday night and was blown away
by the professionalism and dedication of the staff. I doubt they will remember
the night of the Super Bendy Thumb but I certainly will.
