The fable of McDonald’s, the greedy uncle and the brain injury

Regular readers of this blog will know that I have written before about my propensity for finding unusual ways to injure myself.

Perhaps it’s because my body is generally a few steps behind my brain.

Today I did it again. And then some.

The scene was that we were hosting some family members who had battled through the snow to visit us.

My little nephew and my son were enjoying a McDonald’s Happy Meal as a Friday treat.

They were so excited about playing in the snow that they ate no more than a few bites before they ran off to have fun.

I played outside with them, trailing a sledge up and down an icy hill without coming to mischief.

Then I came inside and spotted an uneaten Happy Meal on the kitchen table.

So I did what I always do when I find food lying about, apparently unwanted.

I ate it.

Urgently and desperately, like a pilgrim who’s been on a 40 day fast.

Rather than eating the chips one by one, I grabbed a handful and stuffed them in the general direction of my mouth.

But the fries had gathered in an irregular form. So while most did indeed enter my oral cavity as planned, there was a small level of divergence.

Leading to the unfortunate situation of me thrusting one of the fries right up my nose.

With no little force.

As I spluttered and quickly removed the offending chip, I found myself pondering the possibility that the sharp-edged ketchup-stained strip of fried potato had perhaps pierced my brain leading to an irreversible injury.

I steadied myself. It was clearly uncomfortable. I had a sharp nasal pain. The nostril may have been bleeding. Or it may have just been red sauce.

I waited to see if I would fall over.

I did not.

I found my mind straying to the case of the woman who had received a multi-million dollar compensation award from McDonald’s when she scalded herself on hot coffee.

Could I have a similar case?

I would have to prove that reasonable precautions had not been taken by the supplier against any supposed risk.

It seemed quite an ask.

But things were about to get worse.

My nephew now returned, rosy-cheeked, ravenous and keen to have the rest of his Happy Meal.

Having to explain to a hungry three-year-old that I had eaten his dinner was not my finest moment.

And even telling him that I may have given myself brain damage while doing it failed to bring any cheer.

If I was Aesop now I’d be saying there’s a very clear moral message here. The greedy, selfish uncle who eats his nephew’s dinner gets what he deserves when he impales his brain on a glass-like shard of potato.

That’s fair enough. I’d like to think I wouldn’t do it again.

But the truth is I undoubtedly will.

And before anyone asks, yes, I did eat the offending chip afterwards.

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