Ironic

Have you ever wished you injured your hand so that you would have an excuse not to sit for an exam?

When little, I used to wish that a lot. I’ve always hated exams (that’s something that Einstein and I have in common), and so whenever the feared moment came, I would fantasize about all kinds of situations that would get me out of having to face that horrible situation… Having a doctor for a father and a nurse for a mother, I grew up in an environment where only health problems are “real problems”, at least that’s all that we are unconsciously concerned about… So my “escape routes” didn’t include alien abductions, burglars or fires… they mostly included some kind of illness or injury; basically, that was the only way I would have a sufficient reason to skip a test… Unfortunately, I was always a very healthy child (did I just say unfortunately?!?!) and so I was left with no choice but to attend every single exam during primary and secondary school… and luckily I always did well in the end (I wish I remembered the recipe!)

The situation changed as I moved on to university. On the one hand, I didn’t always do well anymore, so I got used to the falls and failures of academic life… no big deal. On the other hand, now I am supposed to be a responsible young adult and I am left with the choice to sit for exams at the date which I find most suitable (within a 2 year period). So there’s no need to find excuses, I can just decide not to go for an exam and it’s acceptable.

So here’s where the irony kicks in… Last friday, I had an exam, my first exam on clinical semiology (indeed, the pear does not fall far from the tree). As I was galloping up the stairs of the hospital where I do my clinical practices, I failed to place my foot on one of the steps (the one that came after the step that I did put my foot on properly). My ascent was hence abruptly interrupted, as the Gods granted me my childhood wish -somehow overdue and definitely untimely-, and I landed with a great deal of my weight on my left little finger.
I know, you’re probably thinking: “wrong time, wrong place”. Well… i won’t argue, it was a very, very bad moment to get hurt, for I needed my hand to do the exam and I had studied and wanted to sit for it this time. But it was the right place, in a sense… I mean, what better to get hurt than a hospital??
But the story doesn’t end there, as I had to do the exam first. So I interviewed the patient (lovely old guy, Jose) and performed the physical examination (pain, pain, pain!!! — for me; Jose was about to be discharged, nothing wrong with him), and only after the whole ordeal was over was I able to go to the emergency room and get my finger checked. I got some x-rays, had the chance to visit the many corners of the hospital (which is huge and beautiful, but in urgent need for maintenance!) and was finally told I had sprained some muscles… This is the result:

Injured pinky

So yeah, it turns out that the Gods are out there and they hear our pleads, they just grant our wishes whenever they feel like it, and if you are me, it is most likely to happen when you least need it and in the most ridiculous form (I mean, I could have had a bit of a more “respectable” injury, instead of spraining my little finger and being the target of incesant teasing by my colleagues)