...

It happened in the kitchen as I was washing up the crockery I'd used to prepare dinner. There was a roast chicken, so there was a bamboo skewer used earlier to check for done-ness, somehow it must have dropped onto the floor without my noticing.

While I was busy minding my own business, the sharp end of the skewer suddenly thrust sideways into the sole of my left foot! It took me a couple of seconds to realise the presence of a foreign object under the skin of my sole. And then, the stabbing pain. I lifted my foot; the blunt end of the skewer dangled there like a useless limb. I shuffled forward on the other foot; the skewer bounced, still attached to my foot. Ow, ow, ow, I hopped on good foot to the living room. Skewer bouncing all the way.

Trying not to panic, but recognising the all-too-familiar signs of distress and confusion, my mind dictated: Get It Out. At the same time, I vividly recalled medical dramas where stab victims immediately lose a lot of blood when the knife gets pulled out of the wound; it was the knife that kept the wound closed. Too much House. So Don't Get It Out. But I couldn't do anything with the skewer dangling from my foot, and it was then the Mind said Tetanus.

I sat down on the floor and raised my foot as high as I could to decrease the blood pressure at the traumatised area. In the same position, I pressed a thumb over the wound, grasped the free end of the skewer with my other hand, and yanked (Mind: Splinters! Splinters!). OWW. I kept the thumb pressed firmly on the entry point, and stayed motionless for as long as I could, with one foot high in the air and thumb holding on for dear life. I still hadn't the courage to take a look.

After about ten minutes, my pulse stopped racing and my foot started feeling cold and numb. Probably a good time to take a look. Thumb fell away revealing a triangular red patch surrounding a jagged hole. But... no external bleeding apart from a small amount that had bled into the skin. It hurt like mad though.

Couldn't find any antiseptic in the house (it's really time to make up that first aid box!) so did the next best thing and showered my foot with Bactidol, which I'd been using to fight the sore throat! Put a plaster neatly over the wound after checking that it didn't bleed when I put my foot down and walked a few steps. But it still hurts. Mind: Can you still play (badminton) tomorrow?

It could have been a lot worse. It was a lot worse in my mind. In a split second, my mind had played out several scenarios: calling the ambulance to get a tetanus shot, having a blue foot tomorrow, not being able to play badminton...

Such was the reminder to me of the need to discipline and control the mind. An overactive imagination just makes matters worse, doesn't it. Physical injuries heal and are forgotten but a dreadful imagination builds on itself and grows like a tumour. So unhelpful!