Who was that masked medic?

The school holidays have started and I had plans.  Things to achieve, friends to catch up with.

But a week ago, on a nocturnal trip to the loo, I trod on something sharp. I felt to see if anything was sticking out from the wound, but found nothing.

Being half asleep, I went back to bed, but in the morning the trail of blood alerted me.

‘Nigel, can you look and see if there’s something still in there.’

He probed with my eyebrow tweezers but found nothing.

After a week which included two country hikes and dancing at the Folk by the Oak Festival, I was of the opinion there was definitely still something in there.

I had tickets for an exhibition in Oxford on Tuesday and was supposed to be driving a friend, so needed to sort it quickly.

Monday saw me at Minor Injuries.  The medic could spot nothing and was clearly sceptical.  He sent me to the X-ray department without telling me it was on the far side of the hospital.  After walking all that way on the side of my foot, my knee and hip were now throbbing.

The x-ray showed nothing, but I was unwilling meekly to give up.  So the medic had a probe with a large needle and pointy tweezers. Ouch. But then he had it! A 3mm razor-sharp flake of glass embedded in the ball of my right foot. He was not prepared to dig deep but that was ‘probably all the glass.’  He gave me a tetanus shot.

That evening, while I was glad to be vindicated, my foot was tender, my knee and hip ached and then unexpectedly, my left arm stopped working.  Maybe the tetanus jab hit a nerve?

After a night’s sleep, however, I was able to drive to Oxford.  Phew.

But, haunted by the sensation there was still some glass in my foot, I prepared for another trip to minor injuries, and in doing so managed to shrink my beloved Crocs clogs in the washing machine (don’t ask).

I saw a different medic this time.  I explained what happened before but she looked puzzled ‘Who saw you?’

I described him.  She shook her head as if not recognising this person. ‘It’s just that it’s not our policy to dig around looking for glass in people’s feet.  The body will naturally expel the object.’

Whoever that bogus medic-impersonator was, I’m glad he had a go – the glass had been cutting away in there for over a week without being ‘naturally expelled’.

And I hope that if there’s any glass left, my body gets rid of it soon…

 

 

Ordained by God

 Jenny and I met and became friends in our first week at Cambridge.  One thing we had in common was an interest in matters spiritual.  Within a term, we had both committed to Christianity.  The slightly older student who led us to the Lord later moved on to devote herself to Feng Shui, but we have both stayed on the path.

We live in different parts of the country now and see each other together with our respective families at the annual Greenbelt festival, capturing a freeze-frame vision of one another’s lives.

 

Jenny has grown via a number of roles to flower at last as a priest in the church of England and her ordination was this Saturday near Manchester.

It was very important to be there but also a really long way to travel. 

With Annabel (the erstwhile bridesmaid of both Jenny and I) riding shotgun, Nigel drove us all three hours each way. (I did offer, but he prefers to drive.)

It was a great service with the sermon delivered, confusingly, by an arch deacon whose surname was Bishop. Apparently he is soon to become a bishop. Bishop Bishop.

The sermon was encouraging, the hymns excellent, and the church welcoming. But the thing that most justified our long drive was the beam on Jenny's face.

And it's a smile which will go on to bless the lucky church at Bollington where she is to be curate.