On the third morning of my pilgrimage to Iona, I got a splinter from the piece of wood attached to my room key. Not a small, easily-extracted sliver—no, this was a big, ragged spear of wood that jammed its way into my fingertip and hurt enormously! In retrospect, it was only a quarter of an inch long, but it was quite painful!
I was late for breakfast, and so I quickly yanked the splinter out of my finger, slapped on a bandage, and was out the door. The pain continued though, and that evening I discovered that a piece of the splinter was still lodged in my finger. It resisted all efforts with tweezers to be coaxed out, and so I resolved to be patient and let it work its self out.