primroseburrows (
primroseburrows) wrote2008-02-04 04:08 pm
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I HAZ AN OWIE.
I'm hopelessly behind in most everything in life right now, including LJ comments/entries/etc. Plus I have four stitches in my head, which is why I didn't come back from MA or go to work yesterday..
Here's the short version: I had an altercation with a door, and the door won. This is because Evil Bedroom Door had Bedskirt With Big Hole In It as an accomplice, which helped accomplish teh evil by not letting me in on the fact that my foot was inside said Big Hole, so that when I turned to walk across the room, I caught my foot and fell headlong into the (sharp like steel) corner of Evil Bedroom Door.
There's a longer story involving the house resembling a crime scene, my lovely niece being all nice and helpful and niece-ly, the Irish Guy at the ER, and the friendly and competent doc whose one flaw is wanting to tell me everything he observed about my injury. (Note to doc: Just because I'm a nurse doesn't mean I don't get a little freaked when you tell me my head is lacerated ALL THE WAY TO THE BONE). Also, note to nice but descriptive ER nurse: You are tending to the injured, not providing colour commentary. Telling me you are pulling CHUNKS OF FLESH out of my hair is not soothing in the least. Even if you do like my tattoo.
I'm in RI now, but I think I'll be going back to MA, where there is still no internet. Wah. But I am getting a lot of cleaning done. :D
In other news, wah, Patriots.
So. When does Spring Training start again?
Here's the short version: I had an altercation with a door, and the door won. This is because Evil Bedroom Door had Bedskirt With Big Hole In It as an accomplice, which helped accomplish teh evil by not letting me in on the fact that my foot was inside said Big Hole, so that when I turned to walk across the room, I caught my foot and fell headlong into the (sharp like steel) corner of Evil Bedroom Door.
There's a longer story involving the house resembling a crime scene, my lovely niece being all nice and helpful and niece-ly, the Irish Guy at the ER, and the friendly and competent doc whose one flaw is wanting to tell me everything he observed about my injury. (Note to doc: Just because I'm a nurse doesn't mean I don't get a little freaked when you tell me my head is lacerated ALL THE WAY TO THE BONE). Also, note to nice but descriptive ER nurse: You are tending to the injured, not providing colour commentary. Telling me you are pulling CHUNKS OF FLESH out of my hair is not soothing in the least. Even if you do like my tattoo.
I'm in RI now, but I think I'll be going back to MA, where there is still no internet. Wah. But I am getting a lot of cleaning done. :D
In other news, wah, Patriots.
So. When does Spring Training start again?
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...
okay, now i'm getting carried away here.
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I think you should not do that again. Feel better soon!
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Is Not Impressed.
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(Anonymous) 2008-02-04 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)Now, since I know you're okay and no longer suffering inordinately, let's get to the remaining important issue: Say some more words about Irish Guy at the ER, please.
Erm... you might wanna sew up the hole in the bedskirt before that happens again. *ducks*
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In other news, so much woe for the patriots. however, be of good cheer. Spring training is around the corner!!
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Hang tough, kitten! You'll be back on your feet (and back to us) very quickly!
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It was okay in the end, because the doc knew his stuff, for all his dreams of being the next Stephen King. The whole thing was even educational, because I did remember one thing that I've seen miswritten in fic: When you have a head injury, they don't give you opiate pain meds. They don't want you taking anything stronger than ibuprofen, in case there's a concussion/brain bleed. And never, ever aspirin.
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My towel SO had more blood than his sock. ;)
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...and the friendly and competent doc whose one flaw is wanting to tell me everything he observed about my injury
Why do they do that? Every time I have any kind of surgery, at some point during the pre-op appointment, I must always stop the doc before he begins his anticipated play-by-play. I don't need to, or want to, know how you're going to cut me open or what you're going to do to me with your handy-dandy Swiss-Army Surg-O-Matic. Just do the damn thing.
And we may have had the same nurse, btw, though she was ten times more insensitive with you. When a can of Coke exploded in my hand, the nurse who cleaned the wound said happily, "Ooh, look. A fat pad! I'll just shove that back in for you." Thanks for sharing, Florence Nightingale. Now I'm just going to pass out for a bit while the blood drains from my head.
And oh yeah. The Patriots. Ummm.....awwwwwww? *roars*
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