Yesterday, eleven days after my plunge into a gorse bush in North Devon, I extracted a gorse thorn from my left forefinger. I cut it out with a sterilised blade, using a jeweller's loupe to see what I was doing. Here it is.
A tiny thing, but it had made the side of my finger feel sore. Clearly the fall into the bush had rammed it into my skin, so that it was at first embedded and not especially noticeable. Frankly, it was one of the more minor of my hurts. After a few days, with the finger still sore to the touch - though not especially painful unless pressure was applied, and not red and inflamed, nor swollen in any way - I nevertheless became convinced that there was something under my skin, though just what I couldn't say. It didn't seem to be causing much trouble, and I'd had my tetanus jab, but even so it was irritating and potentially harmful, and it needed to come out.
I wondered whether it might slowly work its way towards the surface of the skin, and become grabbable with tweezers. But as the days passed, it became clear that minor surgery would be required. Too minor to endure a visit to A&E. So I carried it out personally. A very small horizontal cut, and there it was. I got it onto the tip of the blade, and wiped it onto the tissue in the photos. There was no bleeding at all.
Now that I could see what it was, I was very glad to get this thorn out of my finger, before it caused an infection or some other mischief. I cleaned the surgical site with hot water and TCP, then worked in Germolene.
One day later, and the finger feels a bit less sore. I imagine that sharp thorn caused havoc under the skin, the soreness actually being a mangled epidermis and severed fingertip nerve endings all protesting. That will presumably take a while to ease, just as if I'd accidentally cut or burnt my finger. At least the incision has closed up, and looks healthy, and there is no suggestion of anything left under the skin.
I've never been a fan of gorse bushes, although I will admit the bright yellow flowers they produce often add a useful spot of colour to a landscape photo on a dull day. But their stiff prickles are annoying, something to avoid. I will be even more averse to cosying up to a gorse bush now.
I've always disliked spiky plants, and those with barbs. That's why, beautiful though they are, I don't go near roses, and hate having to deal with them in my garden. The same for thorny shrubs, nettles, brambles, holly, anything like that. If it can hurt me, then I fear it and stay clear. I have an especial phobia for cactuses. If you ever saw the film The Quatermass Experiment when young and impressionable, then you'll completely understand why.
But really, any plant covered in spikes or prickles is an object of fear. In any pleasure garden there is usually - somewhere - a clump of 'ornamental' Gunera. The so-called Giant Rhubarb. This is for me a nightmare plant.
There's something about Gunera that fascinates, that draws you in; and clearly it wants you to forsake all common sense and enter its primeval realm, embrace its spiky stems, then lie down under that dark canopy and go to sleep. And while you sleep you will be absorbed, and never awake, for you will have become part of them. Horrible. I couldn't be a gardener, and tend these dreadful Jurassic plants from Brazil.
I just hope I didn't wait too long to extract that gorse thorn. I don't want my DNA to be messed around with, and morphed, and turn into a gorse bush (or worse)!
