"Hello. This is my mother. And _this_ is her fingertip."
while presenting them with a small tupperware box that held several pieces of ice, as well as the aforementioned fingertip.
The day had started out a lot better than that. In memory of my paternal grapdparents(ish), (who would both have been 100, if they were still alive) their 4 sons(ish), their wives(ish), children and grandchildren all gathered together, chatted about a wide variety of subjects and had a fantastically delicious lunch.
For the week following this my parents have booked a holiday home, and we left at 6:30 to drive down to it. My parents, their dogs, and everyone's baggage were in one car. Mike (driving), Hugh, Meredith, Noah and myself were in the other. We arrived about a minute after my parents did, and were just getting suitcases out of the car when they approached from theirs - with my mum holding her hand upwards somewhat awkwardly, with a cloth over the end of it. She had, apparently, shut her finger in the car door.
Dad had the tip of the finger, so we got some ice cubes from the freezer, and abanonded Hugh, Meredith, Noah and Mike while we headed off for Bournemouth General Hospital. Mum was triaged very quickly, and x-rayed within 10 minutes of arriving. It took them another hour and a half to actually get her to a doctor, but I assume that was because they'd already decided that they weren't going to be able to reattach the fleshy bit of her little finger (which is what was chopped off - luckily not that much). However, they wanted an orthopaedic specialist to see her, because the tip of the bone was fractured, and the nearest one was at Poole hospital, 15 minutes up the road.
So we sped off to there, and spent another two hours waiting to see the specialist. Who took one look at it and decided to keep her in overnight, hopefully to be operated on first thing in the morning. They're just going to clear up the fracture and put a flap of skin over the end of it. Luckily people don't _need_ the final few mm of their little finger. It's not like my mum even uses the ctrl key that much.
On the way back my dad got hit by a speed camera (37 in a 30 zone - he's never had any points on his license at all before), and then we arrived back to find that Hugh and Meredith had sensibly locked up (Mike having left to go to a friend's stag night in Exeter), but that we didn't have any keys to get in, so we briefly considered going over the back fence before deciding to just knock on the door so that a very sleepy Meredith could let us in.
Frankly, this holiday had better be pretty fucking special. I'm only down here until Tuesday, but I hope that it's better for everyone else than the auspices indicate...