I recently had a self-inflicted minor finger incident with a kitchen gadget and was contemplating a visit to A&E (see the previous blog). Pam, my housemate / lodger exaggerated the issue and I finally agreed to go. To be honest, I thought they may be able to save my fingerprint, which has it’s uses. Also, I thought, if I was ever in custody, the police would be suspicious and assume I’d removed my finger print to protect my identity. The thought quickly passed as I guess the other nine would do (or seven and two thumb prints to be accurate, as I’m driven to be). Anyway, I put aside any further arithmetical considerations as Pam interupted; “Made it. Are you still concious?” as we arrived at the hospital.

Dismayed at the thought of that trivial wound could render me incoherent I just uttered “Sure, I’m not even sure it’s worth the visit.”

but of course I kept it to myself, hoping it would pass.

After circling the hospital several times, we found a parking space, I fed the ticket machine a few red tainted coins and walked into A&E. It wasn’t long before the nurse called me in . I was impressed.

I explained, “I was using a new kitchen device cutting 3mm slices of cucumber but instead cut an equivalent slice off my finger”.

The nurse was sympathetic but he and Pam seemed to find something amusing.

“It’s just the way you said it” Pam said.

I thought that I was succinct and to the point but thought better of pursuing the discussion, which I generally lose or get annoyed about …. or both. The nurse completed the questions and it was clear that he wasn’t going to glue it on and we were not going to leave, impressed by the speed of the process. We were asked to sit again in the waiting room and waited for the doctor and waited and waited.

Patients with various limps, sprains, bruises and with various bits of material wrapped around various body parts moved progressively from door to reception to chair. I could hear snippets of nearby conversations as receptionists and doctors talked to patients:

• Receptionist: “Whats the problem?” Patient: “My mate keeps falling over.”
• Doctor: “It seems much improved.” Patient: “It’s started on this side now.”
• Patient: “I don’t think they should have ’24 hours in A&E’ on the TV. I think I may have what they’re talking about.”

Fascinating as it was, Pam suggested I stop looking and listening to every arriving case. She suggested that one particular, large and I mean LARGE guy was clearly averse to my curiosity. He had on display a large number of bruises and cuts over most of his visible bits. For most persons, I would have guessed a fall off a pavement or maybe even down a few steps but judging by this guys physique, I thought he must have fallen off a block of flats or maybe a small plane. I’m sure Pam was right about the ‘looking’ as he was now staring back at me. I looked away and hoped for no further ramifications or verbal abuse.

Eventually, we were called in to see the doctor, who said that he wouldn’t be able to glue the finger tip back on as it was quite a small slice, tossing it in the bin like some waste food.

“3mm” I protested, but to no avail.

Realising that I would no longer have the means to open my phone, I pleaded “I just need to use it …. to open my phone” …

“and reset the access to a different finger.” I added.

It was quite difficult to explain this to the doctor and he wouldn’t answer my question about how long the finger slice will last without shrivelling up. However, he passed me the plastic bag out of the bin.

Obviously it was taking a little while to make the change and the doctor was clearly impatient and asked us to leave the room, saying that the nurse would bandage it for me.

Suddenly, his approach became more volatile and he bundled me out of the room barking at the nurse to dress the finger.

“That wasn’t very nice.” I protested to Pam.

“I’m not surprised.” she exclaimed “Making that gesture to him. That’s so not you.”

“What gesture.” I asked.

Pam gesticulated surreptitiously.

“Oh no, do you think he thought that? I was just resetting the phone to recognise my middle finger and was getting a lot of reflection on the screen so I held up the phone to avoid it. You have to put your finger on the rear sensor and jiggle it up and down a bit.”

I demonstrated to Pam what I was doing showing how you have to move your finger to ensure the phone recognises the whole fingerprint.

Unfortunately, I was now in the waiting room and even more unfortunately, I was facing, but still at some distance from the large, multi bruised guy who similarly misinterpreted my gesture. He looked irate. Raising from his seat, he was clearly heading in my direction. It was at this crucial moment that I had the first bit of luck that whole day. He clearly found it difficult (and painful) to walk let alone run. We on the other hand had no medical restrictions impeding this course of action and so we did. Run that is. Rapidly.

Having left without a dressing, Pam did her best using something she had in her stock of materials related to her inventing penchant. Good job I thought.

I wandered over to the Mandolin and reset the thickness to 6mm, just in case and explained that I’m not going to be able to do much, make tea for instance. Pam kindly offered to help out.

“Fish fingers OK?” she said, chuckling.

“Or we could get a take away, you know that finger licking stuff.”, she added guffowing.

Explaining that I need to eat more veg, Pam declined to operate the Mandolin. We settled for sausages and frozen peas. She suggested I slice my veg more safely.

… Oliver Sudden

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