i smell bad

i havent been posting much because typing is a pain in my ass. you'll notice i've boycotted proper grammar and punctuation - you can look forward to this continuing until all my bones are back where they belong. it's my way of torturing you so i feel less alone.

MY HAND STINKS, the unfortunate result of not being washed and sweating into a fiberglass wrapper. have you ever had a dead rat in your wall? that's kind of what the smell reminds me of. i cant imagine how bad it will be after weeks under plaster! must ask them to wash it before they put on the hard cast tomorrow. gray has the honor of trying to de-stink the exposed portion of my bum hand, which is rapidly beginning to smell like rotting ass.

i made a return trip to the emergency room on tuesday because the medical industry is completely incompetent and also because jesus hates me. i wont get into the details here until i can type with both hands again, it's just too much work, and my laziness has soared to new heights since i began drugging myself. suffice it to say, i will be fighting all charges associated with my return trip to the E.R., and i have documentation which shows they screwed up the first time. i'm going to war with allina healthcare. i'm a hero, i know.

i switched from percocet to vicodin because the former made my skin crawl in the worst way. the doctor said he'd order a different drug for me to try, but then he sent in a man-nurse with another dose of percocet. i was like, "....uh i'm already taking percocet..." and the nurse argued with me, "No you're not," as if i was clueless about what i'd been ingesting for two days. i said, "it's oxycodone and acetaminophen, right? yeah, that's what i already have." i had to make the guy look in my purse for the bottle of percocet before he believed me, and then the doctor admitted his mistake and ordered vicodin instead. fucking morons.

as of this morning, i have answered the question, "awww what did you do to your arm?" more than forty-five thousand times. even the greeter at my fucking BANK asked me, and so did the teller. responses to my tale of woe have varied from, "you poor thing" to, "holler if you need help in the bathroom" to "it could have been worse" and my personal favorite "i've got leftover vicodin if you need it".

after work today, i'm picking up a disc from the hospital with the photos of my Xrays. i'll spend most of tonight trying to download the Xrays to my computer so i can upload them to my blog. so i can gross you people out.

my appointment with the orthopedic surgeon is tomorrow at 8:40. it could go one of two ways: the first involves surgery, and the second does not. i'm rooting for whichever option gets me more narcotics. life is fucking awesome through a fog of drug-induced euphoria! obviously i will let you know what the doc says, and of couse, about what color cast i choose. black has the popular vote with you people - woo hoo obama!

reasons why broken arms are awesome:

• vicodin
• gray is my man-slave - last night he did the laundry and the dishes (somehow managing to make the apartment MORE messy with each chore he completed), then he brought me dinner in bed. he helps me wrap my am every morning before i shower, fastens my bra, packs my lunch, and opens doors for me. he washes the back of my good hand and puts lotion on it.
• my work friends, L & K, brought me a giant mum plant, so vibrantly yellow that it's almost too bright to look at
• people carry shit for me and bring me coffee
• did i mention the vicodin?
• i've had almost no appetite, eating just enough to keep the ibuprofen from tunneling a hole through my stomach lining

i will post Xrays tonight if the files are compatible with Landers. if not, i'll update you tomorrow after the big appointment, unless i ended up having surgery, in which case i'll be too high to remember all you little people.

my god, do i ever stink.