we have ‘broken shoulder Darlink’.
Remember when I took my 14 year old daughter Too to the doctor and Boris Yeltsin looked down her throat and diagnosed Chlamydia? No? Read this, it is OK, I will wait…
Caught up? Awesome.
So I went back to the doc, cause my medical practitioner wrongdiagnosis.com was not good enough for MPS.
And I was seen by Boris’ sidekick, Natasha.
I walked in, fully prepared to defend my self diagnosis of the Marburg virus and she was all ‘Darlink! Your arm is SORE! Darlink, broken shoulder, you xray’
And I was all WTF?
She took a cursory glance at my arm, wrote a script for some fucking AWESOME painkillers – oooh look! A unicorn! Shiny, sparkly things in front of my eyes! Mmmmm I feel all warm and fuzzy inside and I could totally run for president of the world zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz what.. what.. OMG what is that in the corner? – and then a medical certificate for a WEEK off work.
And I was all WTF?
A fucking WEEK? ‘Don’t you think that is a bit, um, excessive?’
‘Darlink! Your shoulder could be broken. Pain, Darlink! You rest.’
Um. Okay then…
Then she handed me a sling and told me to wear it and ushered me out the door.
I stood outside. *blink blink* What the fuckity fuck fuck?
So, pray tell, Darlink, how am I supposed to put this on? How am I supposed to get home? How am I supposed to sign the fucking forms needed when after her manipulation of my arm I feel like there is an army of leprechauns with pitchforks auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance in my arm?
My right arm. Which is totally the wrong damn arm...
And what am I going to do for a week?
At first I thought ‘W00t! I can totally be like a kept woman and do lunch with my girlfriends!’ but they would have to cut my food for me.
And then there is the whole putting on a bra thing. I believe restaurants don’t appreciate mammaries in soup. Even if it is your own damn soup, and the said mammaries are clean and OMG how am I going to wash my hair and then straighten it?
‘I can play around on the internet for a whole week!’ But typing one handed is fucked to the power of a bajillion.
I can… no. Oooh I can…! No.
I can do fuck all.
So I rang work and organised for people to go to meetings for me (score!) and notify Coffee Bitch that I was not going to be in for a whole. fucking. week. y’all.
He thought it was hilarious.
He won’t think it is so funny when people are all ‘where is my shit?’ Take that sucka!
But what the fuck am I going to do with myself for a whole week, peeps? Besides lurking on all of your blogs and taking 45 minutes of swearing to comment one handed?
Wrong handed at that?
Oh and BTW, I am getting hits like a MoFo for Marburg now, cause apparently some dude is trying to steal my thunder as the reining queen of rare and exotic diseases and went and got himself all knocked about by the Marburg in the US. Damn yanks stealing my thunder.