The Surgeon cometh...

Today the vascular surgeon did a ward round. He's a really nice bloke. Many people see him as a big-head. He is and he has cause to be. He is at the top of his league, an expert. I saw him first about 3 years ago when he amputated two of my toes on my left foot. He is very honest and tells it like it is. Some people don't want to hear bad news, but if you have to live with the consequences, I think you really need to know the truth. What sets this man aside from other surgeons is his humour.

He whisked into the ward, followed by six young, pretty female juniors (I think he's on the interview panel for the surgical staff!). By the time the juniors had arranged themselves around the bed opposite me he had looked at the old chap's amputation wound, barked a few instructions and turned round to my bed. He looked at my right foot and said "I think I'll have some of that shortly", then asked me to show them my scar from the amputated left toes. He looked at my half-a-foot then he turned to the juniors and said "With all these bits missing, you can tell we're on a diabetic ward...or in a Leper colony". Not one of the juniors even cracked a grin, but I was nearly crying. It's humour that gets you through a day sometimes.