Chapter 6 – Boxing Day Morning

The morning of December 26 dawned bright and clear and by some relative marvel of biology my brain fog had disappeared. My thoughts were clear and my vision was perfect, which I realized as soon as my eyes opened.

Louisa lay next to me snoring softly, and it being very early I carefully rose from bed for a quick trip to the bathroom. Returning to bed, after checking on the children – both still asleep – I slid back under the covers.

Louisa's eyes popped open, and she rubbed them. "Morning. Time?"

"Six forty-seven."

She groaned and yawned, but then touched me and whispered, "How is your head?"

"Fine. I feel quite well."

"You mean that?"

"Yes. No visual disturbances or a headache."

She peered at me quizzically. "And the children?"

"Still asleep."

She smiled. "Good," she said then snuggled closer. "I thought we'd lost you."

"Hmm." I ran my fingers through her hair to disentangle the strands. "The car…"

"Hang the car!" she hissed then kissed my mouth. "You Martin, you…" she sighed. "Love of my life."

I heard footsteps across the way and suddenly James was standing in our doorway. "Can I go downstairs and play with my toys?" he asked plaintively.

Louisa slid away from me and sat up. "Come here. Hug?"

James ran over kissed his mother and me, then shot away, feet pounding on the stairs and of course then that stupid dog began to bark, followed in turn by Mary protesting stridently from her cot.

Louisa smiled ruefully. "Guess we're up as well." She gave me a last squeeze.

I climbed from bed. "I'll change Mary then start breakfast for them."

"Couple of kids and a dog; my dream realized," she chuckled. "Quick shower?"

"You go ahead."

I was feeding the children when she came downstairs, her damp hair still wrapped in a fluffy towel, but wearing jeans and a fuscia colored sweater. She scooped up a mug of tea, gave me a peck on the cheek and bade me to go shower.

So, like all good parents we traded off childcare for personal care.

After I was showered and dressed I went down to have my breakfast, while the children played with new toys, the dog ran rings around them, the kettle was boiling again, while Louisa was cleaning pots and pans from last evening.

"I was going to do the washing up," I protested.

"You can dry." All our dishes we now washed by hand; for memories of contaminated water in my dishwasher infecting patients was still a matter of gossip in the village.

Around nine, when the last of the things were put away and our kitchen was put back in order, Louisa said, "You remember we'll go to Al and Morwenna's, right?"

I groaned for I had hoped the to inspect the clock Ruth more closely. "Uhm, yes, no."

"Two o'clock," she stated.

"I… do we… really?" I was saying when the phone rang.

Louisa beat me to the instrument. "Hello, this is Louisa. Oh yes. Hi. We did have a lovely Christmas and same to you," she said into it. "Yes. Oh… but…" he eyes widened. "Here he is." Her mouth made the word 'patient.'

I took the handset and spoke. "This is Dr. Ellingham. Who is this?"

"Doc? It's Chippy. Livvie's hand is bad," I heard.

"Who?" I sighed. "Surgery is closed."

"My lady friend. It's hurtin' her really bad. She sorta fell outta bed in the night. It's all purple and swollen."

"Have you iced it? Likely just a sprain."

"Been doin' that, but… Livvie, my Olivia, you know, says it might be busted."

I closed my eyes. Stupid and blundering villagers. "Can she come here?" I asked.

Louisa rolled her eyes at my words. "On our holiday?" she seethed.

"Oh, and Doc?" Chippy added, "She can't get her ring off…" Chippy added. "Finger's all purple. Hurts her like 'ell."

Oh no. "Right! Quick as you can! Come to surgery!" I slammed the phone down. "Chippy Miller's friend has compromised circulation of a finger from a sprained hand," I told my wife and she stiffened.

"That's bad?"

"Yes. Not attended to, she could suffer tendon damage or even worse; may lose the digit or a portion of it."

Soon Chippy arrived with his flushed and sweating lady friend Olivia. He started apologizing as soon as I opened the door. "Doc. I am sorry, so sorry, but she got this…"

The ginger haired woman held out her right hand, which was grossly swollen, the skin red and taut, fingers like sausages. The offending ring was firmly imbedded in the swollen flesh.

"Tourniquet syndrome," I told them.

"Tried cooking oil but it won't come off," the woman said.

"Come through into surgery," I directed the4m.

Chippy groaned as he helped her climb onto the exam couch. "All my fault. Was messing around… it was late… had a bit to drink…" he bit his lip. "Sorry Doc. Me and Livvie; we was celebrating…"

Livvie blushed. "Chippy! Shut it!"

"Right," I said to make him stop. I flexed her wrist and she grimaced. "That feels like a sprain." I palpated the ring finger where a silver ring contrasted with the swollen tissue above and below it.

"You gonna cut the ring off?" Chippy moaned. "I just gave it to her!"

"Shush!" I commanded him. I went to the cabinet and came back with container of dental floss, the flat tape type. I pulled out a good amount and began to wind it around the trapped finger, starting at the distal joint and progressed up to the ring, wrapping it tightly. Despite the swelling I managed to slide the floss under the ring and out the other side.

I pulled on the floss as I twisted the ring. Traction of the floss, compression of the tissues and constant twisting of the ring eventually pulled it free. Chippie gave me an astonished look as I handed the ring to him. Immediately the finger began to pink up, losing the purple cast.

"Miracle!" Chippie exclaimed. He hugged me and the sour smell of his breath quite put me off.

"Oh! Get off!" I yelled so he let me go.

Chippy grinned. "We're mighty glad you stayed on the village, Doc."

"Yes." I flexed the fingers and though she winced she could move them. "Nothing broken." I looked at the woman. "Paracetamols and ice it intermittently. Rest it." I applied a wide elastic and soft bandage to her wrist and hand. "Keep this on overnight. You can remove it tomorrow for washing of the limb, but then reapply."

She nodded to me. "Thanks Doc. And thanks for bringin' Father Christmas last night."

"Yeah! All the kiddies were sure happy to see 'im!" Chippy exclaimed.

"Yes…" I saw James peek into my exam room for a moment.

After they had left, I cleaned the exam table and binned the detritus. In the front room, Louisa was cuddling Mary, while reading her a book. Both my ladies smiled at me as I went in.

"All sorted?" Louisa asked.

"Yes."

James was paging through the Meccano instructions, bringing the book to me. "Can we build a bridge, Daddy?"

I glanced at the page he showed me. "We shall have to disassemble the crane to use the parts."

"Oh," James' face dropped. "Then I'll wait."

He went back to playing with the crane he'd built all by himself.

The dog was quiet, curled in his basket. Never would I have imagined I'd be living in a house with a dog.

I decided that espresso would be nice, as I started the device. The machine had cycled to the end and the hot and steaming brew was gushing into a cup, but then my mobile went off. I answered the call. "Ellingham."

"Dr. Ellingham? Martin Ellingham?" a man's voice said.

"Uhm, yes."

"Good morning, doctor and I do apologize for calling you on the holiday, but I am Susan Taylor, and I have been completing the arrangements for Mrs. Ellingham's funeral service."

"Ah." My mother's funeral. "Right."

"All will be ready." She rattled off the address which I wrote down. "On the 28th," she repeated. "Eleven o'clock in the morning. If you'd arrive some time before? Perhaps 45 minutes? Minimum half-hour."

I took a deep breath. "I see. Thank you for calling." I rung off.

Louisa set the baby down, came to me and rested her head on my shoulder, putting her arms about me. "Martin," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

A funeral, on the 28th of this month. Right, I thought.

Note: "Boxing Day" A present or gratuity given at Christmas: in Great Britain, usually confined to gratuities given to those who are supposed to have a vague claim upon the donor for services rendered to him as one of the general public by whom they are employed and paid, or as a customer of their legal employer; the undefined theory being that as they have done offices for this person, for which he has not directly paid them, some direct acknowledgement is becoming at Christmas.