At 3.30pm, I had a rather panicky call from my husband saying he’d practically sliced his finger off doing the washing up (he’d broken a glass)… I was at work, without a car, 20 minutes walk from home. I called my friend Josh and asked him to come and collect me and take me home so I could drive D to the hospital. He, rather more sensibly, pointed out he was much closer to D and would take him to the hospital, leaving me to get home, collect the car and head up there. Josh’s partner Sam, my colleague, then said his Dad was outside waiting for Sam to accompany him to the vets with his cat and would take me home. They were all marvellous.
When I got back home, I fished the broken bits of glass out of the sink to check there weren’t any pieces missing (and potentially stuck in the husband); there weren’t. I headed to the hospital. He had already been taken into a treatment room and was being assessed by a nurse. He hadn’t sliced his finger off, but he had really badly cut his little finger on his right hand. After an hours wait, the flap of skin was glued back in place and steri strips used to hold it together. There was a possibility of sutures but in the end, because it was over his knuckle, it was felt the steri strips and glue was best. It’s all bound up now and it’s going to be very painful for a while.
After we’d got home and he’d gone to bed, I suggested to Mollie we shake off the stress of the day with a walk over the field closest to our house. We live in north eastern Somerset, at the end of the Mendip Hills, and although we live in a small town, the countryside is very accessible.