Why I'm stupid
Jun. 23rd, 2003 04:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosMy ankle is now twice the size it normally is. It's bruised, it's swollen, and just for fun, whenever I put any weight on it, I'm going, "Ow, ow, ow," with every bloody step. (No, it's not bleeding. I'm just so pissy I'm pretending I'm British. Humor the sicko, 'kay?)
Yet I'm not going to the emergency room.
Why not? You'd think I would, considering it's not like this is the first time I've hurt my ankle. Walking on my right ankle is like trying to get a toddler to drink a glass of liquified maggots -- just when you think you've got it convinced everything is fine, it takes one look at the blender, lets loose with a girly scream, and runs off in tears looking for its binky, never to trust you or your proffered beverages again.
(Note: I have never offered my ankle a beverage. Jello, yes. Frosty beverages, no. And no, you're not allowed to ask.)
I don't like hospitals.
It's not fear. Frankly, the only thing I'm afraid of is that they'll catch me sneaking into the morgue to look at the dead people. (Note: Hey! I said you're not allowed to ask! That means with everything!) I just don't like waiting, and having to sit in a wheelchair, and waiting, and nobody letting me see any fun injuries, and waiting. Did I mention the waiting? Last time I went, I was there for four hours for what I could have told them was a seriously twisted ankle.
Screw it. I can stay at home and hang out on LJ and wait for free.
Yet I'm not going to the emergency room.
Why not? You'd think I would, considering it's not like this is the first time I've hurt my ankle. Walking on my right ankle is like trying to get a toddler to drink a glass of liquified maggots -- just when you think you've got it convinced everything is fine, it takes one look at the blender, lets loose with a girly scream, and runs off in tears looking for its binky, never to trust you or your proffered beverages again.
(Note: I have never offered my ankle a beverage. Jello, yes. Frosty beverages, no. And no, you're not allowed to ask.)
I don't like hospitals.
It's not fear. Frankly, the only thing I'm afraid of is that they'll catch me sneaking into the morgue to look at the dead people. (Note: Hey! I said you're not allowed to ask! That means with everything!) I just don't like waiting, and having to sit in a wheelchair, and waiting, and nobody letting me see any fun injuries, and waiting. Did I mention the waiting? Last time I went, I was there for four hours for what I could have told them was a seriously twisted ankle.
Screw it. I can stay at home and hang out on LJ and wait for free.
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no subject
Date: 2003-06-23 02:12 pm (UTC)And I'm an official invalid right now. Do you *really* want me getting up and driving in my condition?
Now, go.