A couple of months back, Mrs Sensible was poorly sick and dying and horrors upon horrors, she phoned the school and told them she would not be teaching the little chilblains how to tie their shoelaces and how not to pick their noses.
I was immediately despatched to the doctors to pick up a sick note and deliver it to the school admin. I tried to protest by saying “it can wait until you are better” and “it’s flipping cold outside”.
Mrs S was having none of it, She explained that by law a teacher must submit a sick note on her first day of sickness. I was of course scoffing, tutting and raising my eyes to heaven. What if you are really really sick and your husband isn’t at home? What then, eh! Eh!
My doctors English language skills are about as good as my Italian. We can say hello, goodbye and the rest we get by with miming and a mixture of English and Italian words.
The doctor wrote out the sick note and then produced a fully functioning needle and syringe, I winced as he mimed how to give the injection into the upper arm. He showed me it should be injected at a 90 deg angle, not a 45 deg or even 30 deg.
The first thing I did was made sure I was not the intended recipient of the object of torture, once I realised it was for Mrs S I started to relax.
“You like I give needle to Mrs Sensible”
“It’s not difficult, just make sure you get the angle correct”
“No, it is to protect her against influenza, give it to her when her cold has cleared up”
“Sorry I no understand, talk again”
When I arrived home I explained to Mrs S about the syringe, I said she had to drop her knickers and bend over so I could give her the injection.
It took her a full 2.5 milliseconds to realise my bedside manner was not fully kosher, she looked at me in her school marm way and asked what the doctor really said.
So I told her what the doc said, or at least what I thought he had said and then added that there was no way I was going to stab her with the needle, I don’t like receiving injections and I am not going to start giving them…
It has since been explained to me that there is always somebody in the family who is a dab hand at giving injections.
To be honest, Italy never ceases to amaze me.
PS, Why am I writing this now and not when it happened? Because I have man flu and the syringe is still sat in our fridge, waiting for an aunt or needle friendly neighbour to turn up for a coffee and DIY hospital treatment.