Level 2 Chi Kung.

Nick off cycling, so my turn on morning duty.

Sometimes, working in the health service, I have envied the automatic extra credibility extended to those with a clinical background, and wondered why I never even considered studying medicine. Then something happens which reminds me that I am probably the most squeamish person ever to walk the corridors of a hospital and it becomes all too clear. Shortly after Nick had left this morning, I noticed that Jack had somehow lost most of the skin off the last joint of his index finger and it was pretty much raw flesh and looking very nasty indeed. Suppressing the urge to faint and / or vomit, I spent most of the morning trying to persuade Jack to let me bathe and dress it, but no go. By the time Nick got home around 1:30, I was feeling a bit desperate. Nick couldn’t persuade him either, but he did manage to get him to have a bath which, by default, washed the finger a bit. Jack still wouldn’t allow us to put a plaster on so, as soon as poor Nick had had a bit of a ‘lick and a promise’ and changed out of his cycling clothes, he and Jack set off for the nearest minor injuries unit (we had tried our GP after hours service, but they ‘don’t do dressings, love’). They waited for hours and arrived home in the early evening with Jack’s finger plastered and some antibiotics. At which point we embarked on the challenge of trying to get Jack to take the bloody antibiotics…