St Matthew's Passion: a Medical Romance
“He peered at George Harrow’s face as the man sat propped up on a hospital bed. Harrow was sixty years old and had the tough, level-eyed features of a stoic, though he must have been in a great deal of pain.
A fisherman, George Harrow had been out on the Thames with friends some distance upriver, taking advantage of the early morning quiet. One of his fellow anglers had cast his line a little carelessly and the hook had caught Harrow in the corner of the mouth, tearing his cheek open. They’d arrived as a group, four damp, grizzled men smelling of tobacco and fish, Harrow with a filthy handkerchief pressed to the side of his face.
‘It’s just a scratch, Doc,’ he said. Fin peeled away the rag as carefully as he could. Some scratch. The hook had cut through the cheek’s full thickness.
The wound needed extensive cleaning and coverage with a course of antibiotics. Most of all, it needed painstaking suturing. This wasn’t a simple scrape on a thigh or a back.
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