A TALE OF TWO TOES

© Gerry Greenstone

The other day I felt a tingling sensation in my right big toe which soon became red and painful. I knew what the problem was but it made me think of my first experience with a medical diagnosis many years ago in school.

My parents wouldn’t let me go to a normal school, I had to go to a hoity-toity British private school where we had “masters” instead of teachers and “headmasters” instead of principals. Our Assistant Headmaster, Mr Brain, was also my Latin teacher in Grade 8 and known among the students as “The Bug.”

I remember his jowly face and huge frame and the intimidating clap of his Oxford shoes as he strode down the hallways. Like any bully he would search our young faces for any sign of weakness as we tried to shrink into our desks. Many a poor student would suffer his rage if their homework wasn’t completed or their Latin phrasing wasn’t perfect.

Latin class always started at 9am sharp but one day at 9:15 Mr Brain had still not arrived. I looked over to Bill at the desk beside me who sported a mischievous grin.

“The Bug isn’t coming today,” he said with obvious delight.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Look outside,” he said. “It’s dark and rainy – a perfect day for the gout!”

“What’s the gout?” I said.

“It’s when his big toe gets all sore and swollen and he can’t come to school.”

By 9:20 I knew that Bill was right. There was no sign of Mr Brain which meant an hour of Bug-free bliss. We didn’t have substitute teachers at our hoity-toity school so we could do what ever we wanted but in those days we were quite innocent. So whenever the days were wet and cold I fervently hoped the Bug was suffering another attack of gout.

Fast forward 50 years as I watch my big toe getting progressively worse and I can’t help but recall those days at school. Looking at my swollen and painful toe I can conclude with a schoolboy’s simple logic: The Bug was mean and I’m not, he deserved it and I don’t!

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