thessalian (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thessalian) wrote2010-12-20 07:26 pm
thessalian) wrote2010-12-20 07:26 pm
*whimper*
Wow, more regular posting! Shame it's all to complain.
Today was one of those days where the world was clearly telling me that I should not go into work. There was a feeling of impending flu, that kind of thing. But I have to be there, so I got up and got dressed and got out.
Fuck, I wish I hadn't.
So the first thing that happened was I reached the train station, headed for the stairs leading up to the platform ... and slipped on a patch of ice I hadn't noticed. It was one of those probably really impressive-looking falls, too; where there's actually a split-second where you have time to realise that your feet have totally gone out from under you and this is going to hurt. And then the impact shocks you so much that it doesn't actually hurt at first. Next thing I know, I'm on the ground on my left side, well aware that at least half my weight landed on the point of my elbow but not feeling much but dull incipient pain, with two guys trying to ask if I'm okay over whatever noise I was blaring on the headphones that hadn't entirely slipped off my ears. I told them I was okay. I thought I was okay. So I went to stand on the platform and wait for my train.
The train that approached the station about ten minutes later should've been there twenty minutes previously. That boded ill. And by the time it arrived, there was so much pushing and shoving and cramming that I couldn't even get near a door, much less on the train. By this point, I was starting to hurt, and hoped that the next train would A) not be long in coming and B) maybe have a seat available. It is to laugh. The next train arrived thirty-five minutes later and I only got on it because a crush of bodies forced me there. Me with my bruises and my made-of-pain. Still, I survived, and finally managed to get to work.
I got through about five hours of that, determined to at least clear my desk before I bogged off to A&E because everything - walking, moving my arm, breathing - hurt like hell and the fingers of my left hand were numb. My hospital does not have an A&E department. I therefore hopped a bus and got to a nearby hospital that I knew did have an A&E department, because I used to work at said hospital. They took my details and told me to sit down in a completely jam-packed waiting room. Half-hour later, I saw the assessment nurse, who said she'd send someone out with painkillers. Forty-five minutes after that, painkillers had not yet come but I was seeing a doctor, who told me that my ribcage was sprained, noted that my left arm did not straighten as thoroughly as my right one did and sent me to X-ray. Twenty minutes after that, I was having X-rays taken of my fucked-up elbow, and still no damn painkillers. Finally, it was back to the doctor, who gave me farm-grade pain-death and a prescription for more of same, told me that the bone was only bruised and sent me on my merry way with orders to 'take it easy for a few days'. Yeah. Right.
So the running: Left leg bruised beyond from hip to knee. Left elbow bruised down to the bone. Sprained ribcage. I AM MADE OF PAIN. And public transport is fucked enough to make any attempt to get to work and home again a trial even when in good physical condition. And yet I am still going to drag my bruised carcass to work, mostly because I have no real choice in the matter. I hate being holiday cover. Oh well, at least there's not that much to do.
So my Christmas present is apparently pain. Can I remind the universe at large that, while purple is my favourite colour and blue and black are in the top five, particularly in terms of my clothing colour choices, bruises are not a fashion statement?
Today was one of those days where the world was clearly telling me that I should not go into work. There was a feeling of impending flu, that kind of thing. But I have to be there, so I got up and got dressed and got out.
Fuck, I wish I hadn't.
So the first thing that happened was I reached the train station, headed for the stairs leading up to the platform ... and slipped on a patch of ice I hadn't noticed. It was one of those probably really impressive-looking falls, too; where there's actually a split-second where you have time to realise that your feet have totally gone out from under you and this is going to hurt. And then the impact shocks you so much that it doesn't actually hurt at first. Next thing I know, I'm on the ground on my left side, well aware that at least half my weight landed on the point of my elbow but not feeling much but dull incipient pain, with two guys trying to ask if I'm okay over whatever noise I was blaring on the headphones that hadn't entirely slipped off my ears. I told them I was okay. I thought I was okay. So I went to stand on the platform and wait for my train.
The train that approached the station about ten minutes later should've been there twenty minutes previously. That boded ill. And by the time it arrived, there was so much pushing and shoving and cramming that I couldn't even get near a door, much less on the train. By this point, I was starting to hurt, and hoped that the next train would A) not be long in coming and B) maybe have a seat available. It is to laugh. The next train arrived thirty-five minutes later and I only got on it because a crush of bodies forced me there. Me with my bruises and my made-of-pain. Still, I survived, and finally managed to get to work.
I got through about five hours of that, determined to at least clear my desk before I bogged off to A&E because everything - walking, moving my arm, breathing - hurt like hell and the fingers of my left hand were numb. My hospital does not have an A&E department. I therefore hopped a bus and got to a nearby hospital that I knew did have an A&E department, because I used to work at said hospital. They took my details and told me to sit down in a completely jam-packed waiting room. Half-hour later, I saw the assessment nurse, who said she'd send someone out with painkillers. Forty-five minutes after that, painkillers had not yet come but I was seeing a doctor, who told me that my ribcage was sprained, noted that my left arm did not straighten as thoroughly as my right one did and sent me to X-ray. Twenty minutes after that, I was having X-rays taken of my fucked-up elbow, and still no damn painkillers. Finally, it was back to the doctor, who gave me farm-grade pain-death and a prescription for more of same, told me that the bone was only bruised and sent me on my merry way with orders to 'take it easy for a few days'. Yeah. Right.
So the running: Left leg bruised beyond from hip to knee. Left elbow bruised down to the bone. Sprained ribcage. I AM MADE OF PAIN. And public transport is fucked enough to make any attempt to get to work and home again a trial even when in good physical condition. And yet I am still going to drag my bruised carcass to work, mostly because I have no real choice in the matter. I hate being holiday cover. Oh well, at least there's not that much to do.
So my Christmas present is apparently pain. Can I remind the universe at large that, while purple is my favourite colour and blue and black are in the top five, particularly in terms of my clothing colour choices, bruises are not a fashion statement?
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My pending return to LJ (maybe) should not cause the earth to shake in such a manner. :(
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