The other evening I happened to meet a nice girl called Kate. Kate has an interesting job, she’s a Royal Navy surgeon commander and a consultant in anesthesia and major trauma. Not the sort of women who spends much time worrying about buy-one-get-one-free levels at Sainsbury’s then. In fact, Kate has already left for another tour in Helmand, (for the third time), where she runs a MERT team, (one of those immediate trauma teams that swoop down onto the battlefield in a Chinook to casevac the wounded back to Bastion and operate on the way). I only mention this because I thought of Kate this morning, on oh so many levels, when, standing at the bathroom sink , half asleep and arm whirring like a propeller I managed to take a slice out of my nose with a Gillette Mach 4 Turbo safety razor. My god the bugger bled, it was like an outtake from Friday 13th in there. Minutes later, I’ve got half a loo roll stuck to my face, the stream of fruity invective has got the dogs going and woken Mrs Flashbang up, (you can guess who was loudest), and I’m trying to quickly work out.... A. Do we have enough loo rolls for this contingency? B. HTF do I get to work if it’s still bleeding? And C. What would Kate do? Well, I’m quite certain and confident that she wouldn’t do what Mrs Flashbang did which was to seize the moment, my nose and a jar of “Germolene New Skin,” and paste it on the cut. Never ever, ever put that stuff on an open bleeding cut. Pain? It was like running a hot, blunt cheese grater up and down my shins. Oh how I wished for the sound of those rotor blades coming in to land on the lawn with Kate and her trauma team to save me from that mad demented woman.
Those MERT teams by the way... they are just the best.