On the Feast of Stephen

On Christmas Eve my thumb began to ache and throb. I drank through the pain. By the Feast of Stephen, it resembled a medieval pox. The image doesn’t really do justice to the horror of it all. Though angry and weepy, it hardly seemed serious enough for a mercy dash to A&E: the busy medics have quite enough to do over the festive period without me pitching up with a silly sore thumb. So what’s a boy with a pussy digit to do? Well, a call to our local surgery the next day provided the answer.

“The nurse can see you later today,”

said the helpful receptionist.

“Nasty infection. A few pills will soon sort that out,”

said the lovely nurse.

“Oh, and it might burst in the meantime,”

she added.

And so it did. I took the pills and drank through the pain.

12 thoughts on “On the Feast of Stephen

  1. I’m sure these used to be called a Whitlow. I remember having one once on my finger when I was about 7 and having it cut open at the local hospital – pills ? I was never offered pills for it – just scary doctors in face masks.


    1. A whitlow is caused by herpes simplex according to Google. I get cold sores when I’m stressed but never had them appear on my hands before. I think it was just an infection. No idea what caused it but it’s all better now.


  2. a rum ration for the poor sods going ‘over the top’ was normal. By the time I was doing my bit they’d discovered that ‘Bennies’ were a lot cheaper! Anyway, glad you’re done and dusted.


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