Medicine is the best when it’s a bloody mess

I must confess, I like giving cortisone injections. Judging the feel of the needle as it enters the joint, metal sliding against gristle, lovingly approaching the bone.

I enjoy, too, drawing triangles on damaged skin and imagining the new look when I flip Flap A to where Flap B used to be.

Give me a broken bone and I’ll give it back housed in plaster. And six weeks later, electric plaster saws give me a buzz.

In short, I like to get my gloves dirty. Or, to borrow a phrase from an IV drug-using patient of mine, I have a feel for the steel.

Oddly, so has my young son. Don’t get me

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