Daily Mirror (Northern Ireland)
Give her audacity a big right hand
An hour later and her finger looked just a bit... well, reddish
My daughter was in school for a whole four hours on her first day back last week before I got a phone call from her new Year 5 teacher.
“I’m sorry but Jesse has hurt her hand playing netball,” she apologised. “I think she may have fractured a finger. Would you be able to take her to hospital for an X-ray?”
“Her finger?” I tried to keep the note of disbelief from sounding in my voice. Sighing, I asked: “Is it hanging off? Is she in terrible pain?”
“Well, no,” admitted the teacher. “But it is swollen and because of her age and the growing plates in her finger, it should be checked.”
“But I’m really busy at work,” I whined, quickly closing down all the time-wasting clickbait videos I’d banned Jesse from watching on my laptop.
Adding: “And I don’t really want to spend the next 12 hours apologising to stab victims for holding up their life-saving treatment with a swollen finger.”
“Oh no, it’s all changed now at the hospital,” said the teacher, sounding like someone who regularly sends broken children to A&E. “They have a triage for minor injuries and you’ll be in and out in a few hours.”
Picking up a sheepishlooking Jesse half an hour later, the middle finger of her right hand was bandaged up in a splint and looked twice its normal size. “It really hurts, Mum,” she insisted.
Imagine my surprise when all the layers were unwrapped an hour later by an efficient A&E nurse, and it looked just a bit… well, reddish. “Who do you live with, Jesse?” the nurse asked.
“Mummy,” replied Jesse. “Anyone else?” the nurse asked.
“No,” I answered, but Jesse interrupted, saying, “Yes.”
The nurse waited, concern in her eyes. “Boris our pug dog,” added Jesse.
The nurse smiled, and then said to me: “Sorry, I have to ask these questions.”
While we waited for an X-ray, Jesse forgot her crippling pain and did her bit to stem the NHS obesity crisis by serving patients plastic hamburgers from a toy kitchen.
As expected, Jesse’s hypochondria failed to show up on the X-ray, and we were home by teatime. In fact, the longest part was the time it took to complete the three-page child safeguarding form.
On Monday, as Jesse was getting ready for school, she asked me to wrap her finger in a splint.
“Funny,” I said, when she presented her left hand. “I could’ve sworn you hurt the finger on your right hand!”
Caught red-handed, she sniggered: “Oops!”