A Sinking Feeling

Yesterday was one of those "one of those days"

I was in London by 9am for a meeting with a private NHS contractor in the offices of a rival (sorry, sister) Trade Union. The meeting was in the Unite offices in Islington Borough so I had to decide on my mode of travel. Despite all my natural urges I decided not to take the lazy and expensive option of a taxi all the way, so I hit the tube. The Northern Line has some of the most extreme escalators I have ever seen. Not being the most brave and sure footed of people, and having a slight touch of acrophobia?? I always find these endless escalators a bit unnerving so I never look down. I am always impressed with these native Londoners who attack these with such abandon. As I went up I watched with admiration a stream of daredevil commuters hurtling down the other side, not satisfied with the mechanical progression provided. They develop a lean-back gait which enables them to hurtle down the down, with a degree of confidence, whereas I would hold on for dear life and stair at my feet.

Anyway the Underground had spared my soul on this occasion, so I made may way from the Angel tube station along City Rd, in this July's all to rare sun. Lacking company I called Vicky on my mobile, put her on speaker phone, hooked the phone under my bra strap and continued my progress while having a good natter. My inane prattle was brought to an end with a sudden cry of "What was that. Oh that's bad, that's really quite bad". Rounding a street litter bin, I had banged into something with my foot. Looking down I saw a foot that had, been slashed across the bridge and the resulting wound gaping to reveal the squelchy flesh beneath. I cant say it hurt that much, but it was quite a dramatic looking injury. I looked back to see what I had walked into and there beside the litter bin was a new ceramic hand basin broken in two, clearly discarded by a feckless builder or DIYer. I must have banged my foot into the sharp broken edge of this particular abandoned bathroom furniture. All this time I could hear Vix on the phone, clearly not taking my plight all that seriously. Her response was as sympathetic as mine was when she rang to tell me she had swallowed a picture hook. Telling her I would call back later, I decided to press on. The meting was only 1/4 mile away and although the foot looked bad, there wasn't that much blood. I hobbled to my destination and got a First Aider to patch me up and went ahead with the meeting after a taking a couple of snaps for evidence! (A blogger and her camera are never far apart). Despite proffered advice that I should visit the a hospital I bravely (actually cowardly) carried on. After the meeting I realised I hadn't snapped the offending dumped sink so I decided to shuffle my way back to the scene of the crime. This was partly in some vague optimism that I could sue Islington Council and partly because I wanted another pic for this post. The problem with being an obsessive Blogger is that whatever happens to me my first thought is how to blog it! A combination of limping, precipitous escalators, the Northern Line, Euston, Westcoast mainline, final realisation and car brought me to the North Staffs Hospital A&E.

At 5pm on a Thursday the A&E was relatively quiet and I had a vain hope that I would be out before Friday dawned. Thankfully I was armed with an mp3 player stuffed with 2 whole series of the genius Down The Line radio 4 series, so I was well prepared for a long wait. After only 2 episodes, though which I puzzled fellow patients with bursts of sporadic unexplained laughter ( thats the thing with in ear headphones in that it appeared I was laughing at voices in my head) I was called through. I related my foot / sink collision to the nurse and her response was an almost knowing Ahhh. I said " Do you have many people injured by sink", perturbed by her lack of surprise. "No, but we will have to send you for x-ray in case any sink is left in your foot" My heart sank at the prospect of a longer wait. Card deposited at another reception window I sat down in the x-ray waiting room and did as the name required. There were only 4 other patients there so I didn't think it would take that long. So on went Episode 3 which I hoped I wouldn't finish. Anyway, Episode 5 finished and I had made the "front" of the queue. I put this in quote because it was a virtual front, because if anyone was wheeled in on a trolley or chair they would take precedence. I resisted all those Daily Mail type urges to get annoyed t the delay. After all as soon as I was done I would only be tootling home to watch the telly and stuff my face, hardly gave my treatment urgency. Eventually after another half hour episode later I was in the x ray room. To get a proper image of the wound I had to have my foot absolutely flat to the bed (not really sure what the thing was called but bed is closest!) This meant I had to effect a side-on half lying , Reader's Wives like pose, propped up on one elbow. It was at this point I wished I had worn trousers instead of a skirt. My remaining dignity now lost I sat back in another queue and waited for the nurse to receive my snaps. I was by now absolutely parched, desperate for a drink of anything, but right opposite a sign said "Please do not eat or drink before you see the doctor". Eventually thirst overcame my innate nature to obey signs and I sneaked round the corner to the treatment are and found a water cooler.

I was soon in a cubicle being tended to. The nurse was an absolute artist (in the good way). She had said that she didn't want to stitch the foot, because it was such a soft tender part of the body. I of course happily agreed with this opinion. She carefully cleaned the wound out while I tried not to show pain and then she started to patch the thing up. Using sticky Sterri-strips she painstakingly closed up the skin and glued over the top. I remarked that I imagined she was good at wrapping awkward Christmas presents. She laughed saying she was actually. After a few exchanged comments as fellow NHS employees I was on my way. So with her advice ringing in my ears to try and keep off my foot for a few days I am now settling in for a couple of sofa filled days. Now where are those takeaway delivery menus?