Inside Out

My week began (as it often seems to) with me assisting with a cruciate operation. I was quite pleased with myself and felt quite organised, and even remembered that I had to apply a bandage to the dog’s lower leg so as to keep the hair under wraps, so to speak. Dagny was on good form as she was heading off for some CPD in Svalbard. She hoped to see a polar bear, she told me, but when she saw my bandage she narrowed her eyes.

‘You do know you’ve put that bandage on inside out?’ she said.

I looked down at my handywork. The bandages we use are the flexible bandages that stick to themselves, and I invariably unroll them with the outer surface of the roll to the dog’s leg. Anyone who bandages often will be aware that it’s much easier to do that.

‘It’s not my bandage that’s inside out,’ I remarked. ‘They’ve just printed the pattern on the wrong side.’

‘I suppose they’re the other way out in Scotland,’ she said with a grin. The odd thing is that I seem to remember that for a while, we did have bandages with patterns on, and that the patterned side was inside the roll. I wonder whether now they sell these things online to the general public, whether they feel the need to put the pattern on the outside as a gimmick. Or whether my memory is just hopelessly faulty. Maybe there are some dino-vets in the UK who can set my mind at rest. Either way, I will continue to put the bandages on inside out. I don’t suppose the dogs will really mind. At least I’m no longer in the Glasgow PDSA, where you had to work out whether the owner was a Rangers or Celtic supporter so you could put on the wrong coloured bandage just to annoy them. Or better still, a bright pink bandage on their illegal male Pit-Bull. I wonder whether I could start a craze for blue, white and red bandages for Norway’s 17th May celebrations.

Thursday was much quieter. I confess I was really looking forward to lunchtime. Often, when Dagny isn’t coming in, Jan-Arne is asked to buy lunch for everyone on his way in at eleven o’clock. As well as the usual meats, bread and salad, he frequently brings pre-cooked burgers and I was so hungry I really fancied one. So it was with sadness that I discovered that everyone had been informed yesterday that there would be no lunch provided. Luckily, the ever-generous Wivek came to my assistance with some fibre-rich knekkebrød, (like Ryvita, only nicer for those in the UK) some smoked salmon spread and various salad items. Although there was no Thursday meeting, we still all had our lunch break at the same time and I was amused to look round and see what everyone was eating.

As you can probably tell from my list, Wivek’s lunch was very healthy. It suited her personality: conscientious and rather serious (though to be fair, she also confided in me afterwards that she had chocolate for breakfast, which just goes to show she has an underlying wicked streak). Marita had something not to dissimilar from Wivek: practical and organised. Irene wasn’t eating with us. She’s a woman of mystery.  Jacqueline like me, had no lunch, but rather than steal from Wivek, she extracted an ice-lolly from the freezer. Of course she’s incredibly cool at all times, and just a little bit quirky and so that too was very suitable. And what about Jan-Arne? Well he had brought a couple of bread rolls, which he smothered in ketchup and mustard, filled with ham and cheese, then sprinkled liberally with Piffi, a spicy mix of salt, chilli, onion powder and other tasty stuff. He then proceeded to put this in the microwave and heated it up. So does this reflect his personality? Well it was warm and frivolous, cheesy and spicy and more than a little bit crazy. But somehow together it just works. Comfort food, comfort friend. I’ll take it. In fact, I’ll take them all.

 

Today’s photo is Pernille, who is having her blood pressure checked before an operation.

 

 

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