“Mummy are we taking my ear to hospital?” (Just another average morning in Locks Heath)

“Mummy are we taking my ear to hospital?”

“Yes Carrie.”

“Why?”

“Because you put an apple pip in it and the doctor can’t get it out.”

“I’m a bit worried about that.”

“Mmmm. Well don’t do it again then.”

It seems my almost seven-year old daughter is a scientist. She has been asking questions about ears and noses for a couple of weeks now. I believed I’d given her questions some serious thought and answered them fully and clearly, but apparently not. She needed to test my theories with some practical experimentation of her own.

So last weekend during Sunday dinner – roast chicken, our favourite - she tried the Pea Up The Nose test. This she carried out very successfully, completely inserting the pea with a small finger so that there was no way I could get it out. This incident ended happily with an Olympic Pea Snort across the roast potatoes, to a huge roar of laughter from, well, all of us actually. Followed rapidly by lots of throat clearing and stern looks in an attempt to prevent this becoming the New Game.

She promised she wouldn’t put anything in her nose again.

But I suppose I wasn’t completely surprised when she told me this morning that she had put an apple pip in her ear at school yesterday. She demonstrated to me her very thorough method of insertion - by firstly pushing the pip in as far in as possible with a finger and then tipping her head on the side and tapping her ear repeatedly to ensure the pip would not accidentally fall out.

I had a look but couldn’t see anything. She wasn’t in any pain and I’m a busy Mum. I contemplated assuming it had fallen out. But then I thought of the possible repercussions following this should I be wrong in my assumption. I rang Brook Lane surgery. The receptionist was very reluctant to offer me an appointment at first – feeling the need to consult a couple of colleagues for advice. But a little gentle persuasion from me worked and they eventually agreed to book us in.

Lo and behold the GP could see a lodged pip.

So, off to Southampton General A&E. Not been there before (we’re quite new here) but trusted the Sat Nav. Cunningly took the back streets to avoid the roadworks on Bridge Road and, sure enough, it only took 25 minutes to get there. Queued for 15 minutes to get into the full car park then drove around the car park for 10 minutes to find the one free space, then spent 10 minutes manoeuvring oversized car into undersized space. So it took an hour – half ten - not too bad.

Into A&E, we were triage-d, and started waiting… for an hour and a half. A Kit Kat and one large bottle of blue (?) energy drink later a nice nurse came along and looked in Carrie’s ear. She could see there was no way they could deal with this in A&E - special tools were needed. So off we went to Facial Surgery. Where we waited… for an hour. The drink started to work and Carrie needed the loo. I thought a change of scenery would be good anyway so off we went. Outside had been very cold but the hospital was very hot. We’d come wearing lots of layers that we’d now removed. I picked all these up and negotiated our way to the toilet.

With my hands completely full on the way out Carrie thoughtfully offered to carry my handbag for me. Unfortunately she didn’t notice that the tassel of my bag had got tied around the red emergency ripcord, and as we walked out of the loo this set off the panic alarm. Expecting to be leapt upon by several concerned nurses I frantically disentangled the tassel and raced to the nurses’ station where one disinterested nurse just smiled sarcastically at me and accepted my apologies. The alarm then rang for the next 30 minutes annoying everyone.

Finally our time came. We gratefully entered the treatment room, relieved that our ordeal was almost over and sat down. The lovely and rather young I thought, doctor had a quick look in the ear and announced confidently that he could remove the pip with some special tweezers. He showed us the special tweezers. They just looked like thin tweezers to me but he seemed to be proud of them so I nodded appreciatively. A few moment of gentle rummaging in Carrie’s ear and the tweezers came out empty.

Not to worry though as he had a special little Hoover that would do the job. He proceeded to demonstrate the sucking power of the tiny Hoover. Being the owner of a Proper Hoover Cyclone I still wasn’t particularly impressed, and was now starting to wonder if I should have had a go at home, but again nodded seriously. In went the Hoover. And in stayed the pip.

Defeated but still cheerful the consultant announced that my daughter will actually be requiring an operation to remove the pip and he would make all the arrangements.

We walked quietly back to the car together. Carrie munching on a late lunch and me wondering what next..?

Operation is planned for Thursday.

*******************************************************************************

If you or someone close does get something lodged somewhere it shouldn’t be I would recommend NHS Direct, your local GP or A&E.