Bingo, Burmese, Beethoven and Boils

by Patsy Collins
^{(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)}

I first got worried about my mate Lynne the second time she didn’t want to come to bingo with me. The first time she said she was doing something else. Fair enough, I thought. To tell the truth I was pleased. Lynne doesn’t get out much unless she goes with me; she’s shy you see. I keep on at her to join the social club. I thought she’d taken my advice.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m happy to spend time with her. She’s been my best mate since we met thirty-seven years ago. In that time, I’ve got married, had three kids and a job in a bookies. Lynne is a spinster. She’s got eight cats and gives private piano lessons. Her passions are Beethoven, Burmese and bingo, but she doesn’t share them with anyone but me. Of course there are pupils at her lessons and a whole crowd of us at the social club bingo nights, but somehow Lynne still seems to keep pretty much to herself.

“Just try the social once. Trust me, once you’ve been brave once, it’ll be easy,” I tell her.

“I’m not brave,” she always answers.

“Lynne, for goodness sake, I’m not asking you to walk down the High Street with no knickers on. All I’m suggesting is that you walk in and say ‘hello’”

She did compromise and agree to come to the bingo with me. As I’d guessed she loved it. Still she wouldn’t take the plunge and join up on her own and I couldn’t spend more than the odd evening away from my family.

As I say, it wasn’t until the second time she refused to come to bingo that I got worried.

“I don’t feel like it, Shirley,” she said.

Lynne not feel like bingo? That was a first. She didn’t sound well either.

“Are you ill?”

“No, I’m fine. I just don’t feel like coming to bingo.”

I wasn’t convinced.

“How about lunch tomorrow? Where shall we meet?”

Wednesdays are market day and we’d got in the habit of meeting in town for lunch after I’d searched for bargains and she’d finished with her morning pupil.

“I think I’ll give that a miss, too.”

“What’s up, Lynne?”

“Nothing. I told you, I’m fine,” she snapped.

“Suit yourself then.” I hung up wondering what I’d done to upset her. It’s true that I’ve been pushing her to get involved in a few activities and things, but I’ve been doing that for ages.

A couple of days later, my youngest son told me she’d cancelled his piano music lessons.

“She seemed a bit strange the last time I went and now she’s cancelled the rest of my lessons and didn’t say when they’d start again. I hope there’s nothing serious wrong with her?”

“So do I. You said she was acting strange?”

“She didn’t sit down for the whole hour and she snapped at me. That’s not like her.”

It wasn’t. I went round to see her. She didn’t seem pleased to see me and tried to fob me off.

“I’ve been having a lie-in and I’m not dressed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said and pushed my way in. I had to push because she was trying to stand in my way. She was wearing a dressing gown, something under that, thick socks and slippers. Even when she’s not dressed, Lynne wears more clothes than most people put on to go out.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a cup of tea?”

She made two teas and took them into the living room. I sat on the sofa. Lynne stood looking out the window.

“So what’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re not going out and you’ve cancelled your lessons.”

It suddenly occurred to me that it might be a problem with the cats. I did a swift head count and they all seemed to be there.

“Cats OK?”

“Oh yes, they’re fine. Platinum’s hair is growing back really well and …”

“But you’re not fine, Lynne. Come and sit down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can. We’ve never had any secrets. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She took a deep breath. “I can’t sit down.” She turned brightest red.

“Oh dear. Have you got piles?”

I didn’t think she could get any redder, but I was wrong.

“No.”

“But you have got something wrong with your bum?”

She just about managed to nod, but didn’t look at me.

“What is it? A boil?”

She half shrugged and dropped her head lower.

“How long has it been like it?”

“Two weeks or so.”

“Since before you didn’t want to go to bingo?”

She nodded again.

“That’s over three weeks. I don’t suppose you’ve been to see the doctor?”

“He’s a man!”

“Flipping heck, Lynne! You won’t have got anything he hasn’t seen before and whatever is wrong obviously isn’t going to go away on its own. You can’t stand up for the rest of your life.”

I did think of offering to take a look myself, but I wasn’t sure she’d let me or that it’d help even if she did.

“What you need is a doctor. If you can’t face seeing a man, then ask to see doctor Bell, she’s nice.”

“I don’t know if I could do that.”

Sometimes her shyness drive me mad. She’ll never stand up for herself; that gave me an idea.

“Where’s your phone book?”

I rang the health centre and explained that Lynne wanted to see a lady doctor as soon as possible. When I explained she was in pain and had been suffering for three weeks I was told that she could come down and wait and that the doctor would see her after surgery.

“Come on, get dressed. If you can’t sit in the car while I drive you down, we’ll need to start walking straight away.”

“Oh, Shirley …” Lynne started to cry.

I put my arm round her shoulder. “It’s OK, really. I’ll come in with you and explain to the doctor, then you’ll go behind the curtain thing and get undressed and …”

“I’m scared. When I washed this morning, there was a sticky mess …”

“And you still didn’t call the doctor? I know you’re shy, but letting that ruin your health is just plain daft. Go on, get dressed. If underwear will make you sore, you’ll just have to go without.”

“Shirley!”

“No one will know.”

I don’t know if she put on any knickers or not, but she did get dressed and we walked down to the health centre. I gave her a bit of a talking to on the way. Mostly so that she didn’t have a chance to tell me she wasn’t going in. She was pretty quiet by the time we got there. Luckily we didn’t have to wait long.

“What can I do for you?” Dr Bell asked.

Lynne looked at me.

“Lynne’s got a sore bu' … bottom, doctor,” I explained. “She was too embarrassed to tell anyone, but she hasn’t been able to sit down for weeks and it’s getting worse.”

“I’d better take a look, then.” She pulled a curtain around the bed. “Lynne, I’d like you to remove enough clothing for me to see the sore place and lie down so I can take a look. Can you do that?”

Lynne stood up.

“Do you want me to go?” I asked.

“Please stay,” Lynne said. “If that’s all right, Doctor?”

“Whatever would make you most comfortable,” Dr Bell said.

I sat and waited one side off the curtain as Lynne got undressed on the other. Dr Bell asked her if she had been feeling ill.

“No, not at all.”

“Any other symptoms? For example have you been tired or thirsty?”

“No, Doctor. Well, since it became painful I have had difficulty getting to sleep.”

“OK. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Dr Bell went behind the curtain.

“Yes, that does look sore,” she said after a moment. “Did this start off as a small hard lump?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“It was an abscess and it’s now burst. I’ll just give this a clean up to ensure all the pus has drained away.”

I could see the doctor’s feet moving about under the curtain for a minute or so.

“There, all done. You can get dressed now.”

“Are they always on the, er, bottom?” I asked while we waited.

“Not always, although that is a very common location.”

Lynne was soon out from behind the curtain.

“I’m going to prescribe you a course of antibiotics, just to ensure there’s no infection.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Lynne, you’re going to be fine this time, but this must have been extremely painful and have been bothering you for quite some time.”

Lynne nodded.

“If you ever have any medical issues in future, you must make an appointment, even if it does seem embarrassing.”

“What exactly was wrong?” Lynne asked.

I was surprised; asking for information like that seemed almost pushy for her.

“An abscess is the formation of pus. In your case it was a boil, most likely formed by a hair root becoming infected. Usually this would be treated by a very minor operation to drain the pus and a course of antibiotics. As you now know, if that isn’t done, the boil gets larger and more painful until it eventually bursts.”

“I know. I’ve been rather silly, haven’t I?”

“Well, luckily it’s nothing too serious this time.”

“Could a boil have been serious?”

“Those that form under the skin aren’t usually, but they can form internally and those are much more serious. The sufferer would become extremely ill.”

“Will I get one of those?”

“It isn’t likely. An abscess that forms inside the body usually only occurs when people’s immune system isn’t working properly or if they’re ill with another condition.”

“I haven’t been ill at all.”

“That’s common with skin abscesses. There’s often no underlying cause and no further problems once it’s gone.”

“Is there a reason for them?”

“No. They do tend to occur more commonly in people with diabetes, which is why I asked about you being thirsty.”

Dr Bell printed out a prescription and handed it to Lynne.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“I feel so stupid,” Lynne said as we walked to the chemist to get her antibiotics.

“Don’t be daft. Anybody could get a boil on their bum; it’s nothing to get upset about.”

“Exactly.”

“Eh?”

“It was nothing to be upset about, yet I’ve risked my health and more important, I’ve risked our friendship.”

“You haven’t.”

“I’ve avoided you and been rude. I was unpleasant to your son …”

“You were in pain. I understand now and so will he.”

“As I said to the doctor, I’ve been silly getting embarrassed. I’ve always been too shy for my own good.”

I didn’t argue.

Three days later, I got a call from Lynne. “Would you mind if we met for lunch on a different day in future?”

“No, that’d be OK. Why?”

“I decided to take your advice and join the social club. You were right; they’re nice people and were very friendly. Starting next week, I’ll be playing the piano at the tea dances every Wednesday.”

“That’s brilliant, but what … How …?”

“How did I get the nerve?”

“Yes.”

“You were right. I discovered that once I’d done one brave thing, the rest was easy.”

“Good.”

“That’s not all I discovered.”

“Oh?”

“It’s breezy walking down the High Street with no knickers on!”