The iconic Katherine Hepburn once said in an interview that she’s quite good at getting foreign objects out of eyes…her own or anyone else’s. The mere idea of that gives me the heebie-jeebies. So, I’m not your go-to person if something’s in your eye.
I am, however, quite infatuated with splinters. Those little shards that end up in the bottoms of bare feet or in tender little fingers.
Pro-splinter people have unique outlooks and perspectives.
A rickety old wooden pier becomes a source of hope and possibility.
A child screaming “Mommy, I have a splinter in my foot” is cause for celebration.
Nothing brings a smile to my face more than the prospect of getting that splinter out. Just ask my children. And most recently, the Mister.
I happen to think that my needle and tweezer work is exemplary. It’s hard to be sure of that as no one I’ve ever worked on has said: “Wow, that was really great!” or “I can’t thank you enough!” So I have to rely on my own personal assessment.
I look for a fairly high degree of pain tolerance in my patients. And, as I’ve gotten a little older, I also expect them to forgive my lack of precision, due to failing eyesight.
I know that all sounds a bit macabre. Perhaps it is.
I’ve never looked at my patients as victims. But perhaps they are.
I do know that more than one child has limped around for days with a splinter in his foot before he (or anyone else) told me what the problem/opportunity was. That could be viewed as stealing candy from a baby.
But since I’m the one with the sharp needle, I suppose I should proffer a little compromise and, perhaps, a touch of compassion.
What a bother.