A Sharp Scratch

You’re going to feel a sharp scratch – don’t 

Worry about a thing. 

I’m a professional, 

I do this every day. 

The most painful part is actually the  

Needle piercing the skin – 

After that there’s no more pain. 

I’ll be quick. 

I leave to gather my tools. 

My cupboards overflowing – some sharp, some  

Blunted; my spear sharpened in preparation. 

I don my armour and leave my home re-entering 

The wilderness. 

A Barbarian, I sink another blow. 

Blood like water, rivers leap out of my way upstream 

Desperate to avoid lancing strikes. 

I rejoice as I sink into an eddy of water, fish float around me 

Dead. 

I move on, 

I cannot wash the bloods from my hands. 

Don’t worry about a thing. 

I’m a professional, 

I do this every day 

You’re going to feel a sharp scratch –  

There are not more appointments today. 

Fortunately,  

I can refer you directly – the waiting list is 

Only some months. 

You’ve waited this Long, surely you can wait a little longer? 

Your pain, sharp like ice, do my 

Words not cool the sting? 

Your burning, does it find no solace in 

The Plan I have made? 

It is important to me that we are on the same page. 

Please let me know if anything changes. 

I walk you to the door, 

Stopped at the threshold. 

I have tried my best to coach you for this, but I’m  

Burdened by the knowledge of experience. 

I know this will not be like the training sessions. 

I stand on the sidelines as you approach the cage.  

Knotted muscles dragging a chained hammer,  

I see your arms twitch in anticipation. 

I can see the holes in your shoes – the plasters on your 

Blistered feet. 

My heart races with anticipation, aching with guilt at your 

Burden. 

My hands twitch again, now is not the time for applause. 

It would not be appropriate. 

Perhaps I will get to cheer after your throw. 

I wish you the best. 

Don’t worry about a thing. 

I’m a professional, 

I do this every day. 

You’re going to feel a sharp scratch – 

I’m afraid you’re going to the hospital. 

There’s nothing to fear, you will be in excellent hands. 

There are many people like me there, 

You are simply more than our services here can accommodate. 

They will let me know when your  

Condition is more suitable for my management. 

The guilt I feel seeing your packed bags propels me to the door. 

I believe I am doing my best, 

Doubt is wrapping itself around me. 

I stand awkwardly by the car. 

I have already overstayed my welcome. 

The sheets laid and pillows fluffed, 

The kitchen stocked and your meals prepared. 

I can tell you want me to go. There are others to meet. 

Besides – I was the one who encouraged you to go in the first place. 

My dry mouth swallows back apprehension 

That my heart screams to convey. 

My shaking hands rattle keys as I 

Start the engine. 

My smile does not quite reach my eyes. 

I watch you enter your dormitory. 

What have I done. 

Don’t worry about a thing. 

I’m a professional, 

I do this every day. 

You’re going to feel a sharp scratch –  

Congratulations! 

There’s nothing wrong with you; 

You may now march forward confident in the knowledge that 

There is no diagnosis. 

No cure required. 

No follow-up necessary. 

Fit for discharge. 

My ears ring in disbelief at my own words. 

I mapped out this route and marked the digging sites –  

I truly believed we would find something together. 

I truly believed we would finish what we started. 

My bleeding hands and broken fingernails 

Finally scrape the wood of the coffin I have been 

digging for. 

I only now realise how fast my heart is racing. 

How long I must have been digging. 

I pry open the lid and sink. 

Not even bones. 

Nothing. 

My stinging fingertips feel numb, I no longer feel my heartbeat. 

I fall beside my open, empty box. 

Don’t worry about a thing. 

I’m a professional, 

I do this every day. 

You’re going to feel a sharp scratch –  

Your mothers deterioration is slow. 

Your emotions are both appreciated and 

Noted. I will document this conversation. Don’t 

Worry, this is not the same  

Thing that did not require treatment previously. 

It was new. 

After a successful operation, 

There is no more we can do. 

What was insidious has been removed and  

Now all that is left before us is a natural process. 

I know this to be true. 

I have rehearsed and understood this story –  

But the crowd that I have gathered leave me uneasy. 

I see their canteens, their leather flasks, filled to the brim with  

Water ready to crash up against me. 

I must control these waves. 

I swing open the door. 

Gather around the hearth and listen to my story, 

Children. 

Their eyes glow with anticipation, so naïve, so  

Innocent. 

I have told this story many times before – I know how to  

Capture their attention. 

I have dried the wood and set the fire, prepared the 

Beds, memorised my lines. 

I begin my tale. In-between the gasps and laughter, 

I search those innocent eyes, naïve smiles, and try to 

Capture their emotion. 

By the end they are all sleeping soundly. 

I tip-toe out, glancing back to cement this scene in my mind. 

I lay in the distant fields, I remember those eyes and 

Grasp onto my simple childhood, 

Exhausted by the emotions I have wrangled through the night. 

The smell is what wakes me. 

Smoke. Charcoal. Sulphur. 

The burning house, engulfed by the flames I have tended and left, 

Smoulders. 

My retching burns my dry throat, I have nothing left to bring up. 

I am empty. 

The ashes of the innocence I have burned paint my skin, 

My dry tears painting my soul. 

I gather my pack together and start my journey onward to the next. 

Don’t worry about a thing. 

I’m a professional, 

I do this every day. 

Dr Reuben John Burgess

F1, Scotland Foundation School

September 2025

All previous HOFP articles can be found on on our HOFP webpage