I thought Thursday would be the most ordinary day of the week.

Just shows what I know.

My left foot has been very painful, and I have been determined to find out why. I run around a lot with no shoes on, indoors and in the garden. I am constantly bumping my feet, and this sometimes causes problems. The lump that had appeared on the side of my foot had to be something I had trodden on.

When the lump began to go purple and hurt a lot, I knew it was time to be a nuisance somewhere. But where?

I have almost worn out my welcome at the doctor’s, so maybe I should look for a podiatrist, if that’s what you call them.

The receptionist at our doctor’s directed me to our local hospital, which is running a minor injury clinic. No appointments; just turn up and wait.

On impulse, I decided that Thursday was the day of reckoning. The worst that could happen, I thought, was being told it was another thing I would have to live with.

Our local hospital is what they used to call a Cottage Hospital, and it never feels like the big boys. I had been there several times before for blood tests and the occasional X-ray. It has a different atmosphere altogether, and everyone is so helpful.

Expecting a lengthy wait, as there was never a sense of urgency, I settled in the large waiting room with a book. I didn’t get to read much, as people-watching is far more interesting, and there were enough people there. A stream of people poured through the doors, many limping like me.

I was triaged very quickly, and I waited for the cue to go home and stop wasting their time… but they seemed to think it was serious after all.

Next, a cheerful nurse had a good look and thought the lump could be due to a foreign body, and I was taken for an X-ray.

Back to the waiting room and people-watching. Old and young, characters of every description came and went, and I couldn’t help but be surprised by the efficiency of it all.

I was still expecting to be sent home with a sticking plaster, but that was when Thursday became very weird.

When I was called into the medical room, the young doctor seemed very amused, a huge smile lighting up her face. She explained that the lump was soft tissue and asked when I had damaged my toe.

I hurt my feet daily; the times I hit that toe on the edge of furniture are almost legendary, and I couldn’t remember the last time.

I had to ask the question because I wasn’t getting much of an explanation.

“How can soft tissue hurt so much?”

“Oh, it’s not the lump that hurts. It’s the broken bone underneath…”

That was the exact moment that weird arrived.

I had never broken a bone before, something I have always been proud of, me being such a klutz, so to be told I had one now was quite a shock.

I must have looked doubtful, for she showed me the X-ray. The break was clear, and the lump of tissue was lying right on top of the break.

The bone should heal in six to eight weeks, and the lump should disappear. If it doesn’t, it will be time to see a podiatrist.

The family had a good laugh about all of this, and I must admit, I did too…

Good excuse to take things easy…