Annette Milburn
Aug 8, 2017 · 3 min read

The boys bad foot

The Sons bad foot

So I notice that my son is wearing one sock. Now he is a weird kid but not usually that weird. “Hey, what’s with the sock?” “Uh nothing.” “Nah, that’s weird. Why have you only got one sock on?” “Weeeell, well my toe is a bit sore, nothing for you to worry about.” “Show me.” “Nah it’s fine.” “Dad, Mole’s got a bad toe and he won’t show me.”(Yelled from upstairs in such a way it echoed around our very middleclass neighbourhood). (Yelled back) “Show your mother your foot.”

Well the toe is red, pus oozing and sore looking. “It’s not sore, nothing for you to worry about.” “Oh ok.” “Dad take the boy to the pharmacist tomorrow see if you can get something for it.”

Round our way you cannot get a doctors appointment — first you have to phone about 58 times to get the call answered. Then you queue being reminded that if your condition is life threatening hang up and call 999. Finally Cerberus answers demanding to know what is wrong with you. After explaining she will then decide if you are worthy of “Doctor will call you back between 14:58 and 18:22”.

So the pharmacist advises an antiseptic cream. Oh about a week later “Mole how’s your foot?” Rapid response “Fine.” and scurries off. Hmmm odd. “Dad, how’s Mole’s foot?” “I don’t know, I asked earlier and was told it was fine.” “Mole take the sock off now!” Well the description is red, swollen, dewy and sore looking. “It doesn’t hurt honest.” “Dad I’m busy tomorrow take him to the minor injuries unit.”

So during a break in rehearsals I phone home…”Are the boys home?” “no they’ve gone to the tip and then are going to sort out Mole’s foot.”

Later I call — “Well that was a waste of time. We waited for over two hours! And there was no signal or wifi or anything so we just had to wait and wait. Then well the nurse looked at it and explained that the rotting smell is well rotting foot. Yes it’s infected. So then she opens the cupboard for the medicine — hmmmm Old Mother Hubbard would be proud — there was nothing there. So then the nurse tells us that although she can hand out medicine she cannot prescribe it. So she phones through to the doctor, who because he hasn’t seen Mole for years and years insists he needs to see him and Hallelujah! she’s got an appointment at 3.00.”

Much later I get a call “Well that was awful; it was a sit and wait appointment. We waited one and a half hours for a two minute “Oh yes that’s infected. I’ll prescribe you an antibiotic.” Then we took it to the pharmacy who told us there was a 30 minute wait. It’s still there I am not waiting anymore today. You’ll have to pick it up and take it to him at his sleep over.”

So I collect the prescription. The doctor to be fair does not know my son but I am sure he is familiar with teenage boys so why, oh why did he think to prescribe an antibiotic that is to be taken 4 times daily on an empty stomach? Seriously the only time the human appetite has an empty stomach is when he wakes up and certainly it is not an hour before he eats food. The doctor is clearly either mad or a sadist. I drop off the medicine to the boy at his friends house. The mum tries to invite me in but I refuse because I know that there are hordes of teenage boys in there. “No, I’ll just give him his medicine.” She tells me “I don’t do sick kids, perhaps he can come home (looking optimistic)” “Not a chance, me and Dad have no kids home, so he’s all yours.” “Mole take these tablets” “Uh Mum I wasted a whole day because of you today; you made me wait at the doctor and the hospital. And now look the doctor is clearly an idiot because like I seriously ever don’t eat for an hour.” “Bye darling, love you. See you tomorrow.”