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Wednesday, March 05, 2014

I'm a bit concerned that if I don't write anything today, people will think I've given up blogging for lent, so I feel I should get down to the nitty gritty and write an update on our louse situation. It's just over a week now since we discovered that our daughter was infested with insects, so in the past seven days, my home life has become a bit like a remake of 'The Bay'. Only more terrifying. I think the low point for me was when I found Lisa using my favourite pasta dish as a louse-drowning pool, but to be honest, none of it's been a barrel of laughs. Although I do quite like Amelie's daily updates on which of her classmates are scratching.

Fortunately Lisa's taken on the role of Nit Nurse, as my lack of experience with hair precludes me from playing a part. At least that's what I told her. I did suggest that we use the bath as a sheep dip, but in the end, Lisa has made do with daily washing, combing and treating of Amelie's locks with various lotions, potions and insecticides. For the most part, Amelie's been a very patient patient, although the phrase "Am I done yet???" has become a familiar cry of despair over the past few days, as Lisa combs the area for nits.

As a reward for Amelie's endurance in the face of extreme hairdressing, I bought her a cuddly Hello Kitty from an Uckfield charity shop yesterday - an experience which taught me that if you decide to chat to an old lady about your daughter’s love of Japanese felines, there's every chance you'll end up being pressured into unplanned purchases. Within five minutes, I'd been shown the hospice shop's entire range of Hello Kitty merchandise, and persuaded to part with four quid for a pink raincoat. It wasn't so much Hello Kitty as goodbye money and an empty kitty. Although if I can ease the suffering of a terminally ill patient, whilst cheering up my daughter, it's probably cash well spent.

On the subject of patients, the good news is that my skills as a retinal photographer are now intimidating the customers so much that would-be challengers are heading for the hills. One of my patients yesterday was so taken aback by the speed with which I moved the fixating light and snapped images of his eyes (it was almost lunchtime, so I was in a bit of a hurry), that as he got up to leave, he stopped, turned to me, and said "I'll tell you one thing before I go..."

Naturally my heart sank, in case it was a story about the war, but he continued: "I wouldn't want to play you at Laser Quest".

I said "How about Kerplunk..?" and in the end we settled on Twister. My arthritis should make it an even contest.


Phil's Mum said...

We were wondering if you had died, but you're only in the grip of the plague.