The NHS comes in for a lot of stick these days. Every newspaper has a red faced rant from an indignant smart alec who could run their local hospital so much better if only they got the chance. There are horror stories galore, embroidered and exaggerated, wheeled out after a few drinks for maximum effect. Fingers wag, heads shake, wide eyed disapproval is shared.
Anyone with the very young or the very old in their family will, however, be indebted to A&E. Recently we headed to our local in search of life sustaining pills that had been left at the other side of the country. We were swiftly and kindly supplied with a new lot. No one pointed out how stupid we’d been to forget them, or how lucky we were that the symptoms being supressed had not yet returned. We left humbled and very grateful.
I can however admit to testing the patience of the A&E doc. My hand was bleeding, hurting like hell. As the tea towel around it was unwrapped, I was asked, ‘So what happened?’ The doctor’s face revealed the merest flicker of a smile as I explained: ‘I was cutting an avocado and the knife slipped’, before quickly resuming a concerned expression.
It turns out I have the injury du jour: Avocado Hand. The new bane of the plastic surgeon’s life. Clean eating is getting its own back with more than just flatulence. So numerous are the instances of Avocado Hand, that it is suggested that avocadoes should carry a warning. Having honed their skills on that 1970’s tin-opening injury, Corned Beef Thumb, hand surgeons are now having to repair a new kitchen injury and they’re getting fed up.
Patience Wellbeing, Plastic Surgery Blogger