"You've perfed your ear drum luvvie," said the nurse in her lilting Northern Irish way. I wasn't sure whether she was being sympathetic or disappointed - I think it's to do with the accent.
Given that her profession was nursing, I assumed the former and smiled back weakly.
So that's what I've done: I've perforated my ear drum. I don't know how - sitting on an open-top bus on a cold Cardiff day? Listening to the British History Podcast on my massive headphones? Poking a cotton bud all the way into my ear and pretending to be an alien in the mirror? Who knows?
"Are you allergic to anything?"
I said I didn't think so.
"So that'll be amoxicillin then, three times a day, finish the course, and don't get that ear wet. Wrap it in cotton wool and Vaseline in the shower."
"Okay," I said, gripping the prescription, imagining myself with an earful of sticky cotton wool.
"Your skin's very dry isn't it?" she suddenly said, looking me right in the eye. "Are you taking anything for that?"
I told her the doctor had said to use a moisturiser. She nodded.
"It's not any good in the bottle," she said loudly. Humour? A telling off? It was literally impossible to tell. "Make sure you come back in a week so we can check it's healed over okay."
I smiled, said thank you politely, stood up, and span towards the door.
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