Following medical advice, I kept the bandage on my hand for 48 hours. Then came the moment to remove it and treat the wound. Guess how much I was looking forward to that. Correct: not at all.
In the end it was not as traumatic an experience as the dedicated coward that I am had been fearing. The wound appeared as a thin red line across my finger, neatly stitched together.
Each day, after gentle washing, the wound is cleaned by first rolling a cotton bud soaked in hydrogen peroxide solution over it and then rolling a dry one over it to remove the moisture. A squeeze of lotion from a small tube is applied (I think this is anti-biotic) and then a waterproof sticky plaster can be affixed to cover the wound. If you are not too squeamish to look closely at the picture, you can probably see some of the stitching.
t is tempting to call this my unlucky finger as it is the one I damaged once before when I fell over in the street and dislocated the middle joint. This was slightly embarrassing as I was returning home from the supermarket where I had bought, among other items, a couple of bottles of beer. These smashed as I fell over, splashing my clothes with beer. I felt it necessary to explain carefully to the hospital staff that, even though my clothes stank of booze, I had not been drinking before falling over!
I have to return to the surgery on December 1st for the stitches to be removed. After that it will still be necessary to treat the finger with care pending a full recovery. Then, all being well, I can start to enjoy Life without the Bobble.