Stop it, my sides are hurting

Chef just rang.
He’s at hospital.
He cut his leg weeks ago on the old copper pot mum insists on keeping because it’s copper you know, it’s worth a LOT of money.
So lucky it’s sitting in the garage as a storage unit for drop sheets then.
But he cut it across the scar that takes up most of his entire left shin from when a car collided with him as it illegally went through a roundabout he was already going through on his motorbike.
Anyway, I knew it wasn’t too good because he was liberally spilling betadine all over our bathroom for days and days.
I believe it was two weeks ago I expressed to him that perhaps it would be a good idea to see the GP and get some antibiotics or something to help it heal.
I hadn’t asked about it as I had thought it was getting better and hello, too much else going on for me to be nagging about some cut on the leg of a grown-up in the house.
So tonight, in the middle of dinner service, apparently it split open and started bleeding everywhere.
His boss freaked out and packed him off to RPA, which is kinda down the road.
So it’s just Chef and the ice addicts livin’ it up at EMERGENCY.

haha ha. HahahahahahaHAHAHA.

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