That time I went all MasterChef and discovered a(nother) downside to rural living…
At the risk of revealing the punchline way too early, I’m typing this update verrrrrrrry sloooooowly thanks to a badly mangled thumb.
The below-freezing weather of late has resulted in me spending more time than usual indoors, binge-watching the latest season of MasterChef on catchup – which, by the way, is the only way we can watch free to air TV given our lack of reception!
Which is how I found myself and my brand-new mandolin hanging out in the kitchen last Saturday night, attempting a very ambitious Potato Dauphinoise and caramelised onion pie.
Spoiler alert: we did not have pie for dinner that night.
Without sharing too many gruesome details, a small slip resulted in a big chunk of skin and tissue parting ways with my thumb.
While the injury itself was pretty painful, dealing with it was an even bigger pain in the you know where, highlight a(nother) not so awesome aspect of rural living – the quick and easy availability of some services.
If I’d performed this not so clever trick when we lived in the city, I would have headed into one of the three open medical centres within 15 minutes of home and had my thumb looked at and treated within a few hours – even with it being a Saturday night.
Cutting my finger tree change style meant the nearest emergency medical centre (yep, singular) was a 40-minute drive away and being a Saturday night, it was closed.
Which then meant deciding if the injury was bad enough to warrant a trip to the hospital emergency room.
Given there was nothing really to stitch (sorry- probably too much information), Mr Treechanger put his First Aid training to good use and managed to stop the bleeding after 30 minutes with some tricky bandaging.
The next day (Sunday), we contemplated visiting the Medical Centre, but a quick call confirmed they were fully booked, and the only option was a trip to the hospital if there was cause for concern.
By Monday, my thumb was still looking pretty average, thanks to new swelling and bruising, so we decided it was time to visit a doctor.
And this is where the even bigger pain of rural living kicked in.
The first available appointment my regular doctor had was Friday – yep, five days away.
Another call to the Medical Centre – who can usually be relied on for short notice appointments – confirmed they were unexpectedly short-staffed, were not taking walk-ins. The earliest they could book me in was the following Monday.
Thankfully, we hit the jackpot with my third call to a newer practice, which had a spot thanks to a cancellation.
So after a mad dash to town, my thumb was assessed and dressed, with Mr Treechanger’s care getting a big thumbs up from the doctor (you see what I did there, right?!).
While my thumb is still pretty sore and mangled, it will survive for another cooking adventure too. Maybe just not one involving a mandolin.
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