Doctors and Nurses

This morning my only focus was breakfast. There was no other thought process, I was very happy in my preparation of my favourite meal of the day. The kettle was on, coffee and milk in my mug, cereal and milk in my bowl. I had even managed to have a few spoonfuls of cereal and the morning was looking rather fantastic.

That all changed as I went to fill my mug with hot water. The kettle hit a glass that was on the sink and the glass shattered, some of it hitting my foot on the way down.

Usually I'm a pretty brave person, I use an Epilady on my legs and don't have a problem with donating blood. I'm also a female, so generally pain and I have a good relationship.

I always thought in the case of an emergency, I would be calm and just deal with it. Not this morning, once the glass hit the foot and the blood started flowing, I did nothing but stand in the kitchen pointing at my foot. Luckily my beloved is a mind reader, and could tell that something had happened, and immediately began the process of stopping the blood and bandaging the foot.

Although with his enthusiasm of playing doctor, I did have to inform him the brilliant bandaging was cutting off the circulation to my toes and perhaps amputation of my toes wasn't quite what I was hoping for.

Then off to the local doctor we went - as a nurse's daughter I have been constantly reminded that the Emergency Department is for 'emergencies' and unless I'm dying, the local GP is the best option. And I really didn't feel like an 8 hour wait in emergency along with the rest of the Joondalup population. Not that I have anything against Joondalup, its mainly the people who live there that I have a problem with.

Instead I got to hangout with some local pensioners who were having dressings changed, and through my recent experience with the local Aquatic centre, I was in my element chatting about dressings and urine. Its always an exciting day with the local pensioners, they don't have a problem talking about medical procedures, as long as its about their recent ulcer in their upper thigh - and that's usually combined with lifting their skirt up to give me a good view of something I don't want to see until I'm 75 with Type 2 Diabetes.

Finally, the stitches were in, and off I hobbled with my beloved holding tightly to me. I was hoping to get crutches or at least a wheelchair, but sadly nothing. I have to use my own legs and arms to move myself around, but can't complain too loudly.

Right now I'm lying on the couch while my beloved does the food shopping and brings home some DVDs for the afternoon.

The only problem, is that now I can't exercise, but that's okay. The next best option is starvation to ensure I don't put on weight during my non-exercise experience. Ten days and the stitches come out, combined with a dramatic scar on my little toe.

I'm currently thinking of the best story to accompany the scar, and possibly going with a dramatic encounter with a tiger. Anything that sounds better than shattering a glass in the kitchen. Suggestions welcome.