Thursday 10th June 1993 Morning surgery 11:17

I had never really thought about why the lady who worked in the chip shop always had a bandaged leg. Harriet called my Dad and I in to see her today. She had a huge varicose ulcer. It was horrible: enough to put us off fish suppers for the next few Fridays.

Mrs Blackwell was a stout woman who insisted that she couldn’t lose weight. She had not been able to tolerate the thick, elastic bandages that Harriet had persuaded her to try. They made her leg drip with sweat. Sitting down and putting her feet up for a couple of hours every afternoon was out of the question.
“It’s never going to heal then,” my Dad said.
Harriet sighed.
“These varicose ulcers are an occupational hazard for me, Dr Dennis.” Mrs Blackwell said matter-of-factly.

An occupational hazard.