Testicles and hair straightening

My facebook status on Friday the 13^th read something along the lines of feeling my luck about to change for the better.  Cocky I know…this is where the universe comes in to remind me of my place.  When I left work that afternoon, I took a header in the snowy/slippery parking lot and landed flat on my ass and my left hand. I sat in the snow for a few minutes, half laughing, half crying, because it seriously hurt and I was seriously embarassed.  Finally I dusted myself off, got in my car and drove home, thinking nothing of it.  Except how entertaining it must have been to the cars driving by.

As the evening went on, I felt like something wasn’t right.  My wrist was sore and wasn’t moving the way it should, so after the kids were picked up by their dad, I decided to make the trip to the emergency room to get looked at.

Ok, ok I will admit, I am clumsy.  Really clumsy.  I have broken my right wrist, tripped, slipped, fell more times than I care to admit and have had a slight concussion from slipping off my front porch last winter.  Actually two concussions if you count that time I was running for the phone, misjudged the corner and ran into the wall, knocking myself backwards and landing squarely on my ass.  These don’t even include the episodes where alcohol was involved.  There’s just no way of keeping track of that.

Anyway…I am triaged and teary because they asked if my emergency contact was still my husband and I prepare myself for the expected 6-7 hour wait.  Not even one chapter into my book and I get called to go back into an examination room.  To my surprise, they call another patient at the same time and we are lead down the hallway.  I am sure of the other patient’s horror as we are taken into a room together only divided by a curtain and our social obligation to pretend the other isn’t there. 

Let me clear this up…the other patient was a male, my age and was there for some problems “down under” if you get my drift.  I felt so sorry for him.  Having to describe his symptoms, having a hands on exam and having to give a full description of how his testicle got so swollen with me on the other side of the curtain. I almost died, so I can’t imagine how he must have felt.

So there I sat, pretending to read my book, all the while, listening to this poor guy describe his “apple sized” testicle.   I mean really…apple sized?  Are we taking one of those small granny smiths or one of those huge ass red delicious?  Either way, I am sure he was mortified knowing I was on the other side of the curtain.  Seems that he slipped riding his bike and landed on the crossbar.

 As he was getting poked, prodded, probed and scanned, I waited, pretending that we were on the show “House”.  Maybe this poor guy has some crazy disease and the bike injury was just the catalyst that brought on some weird, one in a million condition?  My role was just one of the supporting cast, you know, the patient in the background with the broken wrist.  But this poor guy, his life could be in the balance.  I mean an apple sized testicle???  I started imaging all the tests they would do, the white board with suspected diagnosis scribbled all over it, the code blue when one of the giant testicles erupted and his heart stopped!  Dr. House making his grand entrance and ordering all kinds of fancy tests.  Yelling orders at the new, naïve doctors…the cute blonde one reviving me because I too have come down with a mysterious illness.

Why am I telling you all this?  Because people…when it snows and you are riding your bike, please be careful.  Also, if you are going to wipe out in a parking lot, tuck and roll, Tuck. And. Roll.

Anyway…back to the blog.

I was relieved to be called for my x ray. I bolted out as fast as I could, trying not to get a peek at the testicle, I mean patient, on the other side of the curtain.

Xrays complete, an intern’s diagnosis (not even a real doctor yet) and one plaster cast later, I am on my way home, not thinking about anything else, but how the hell I was going to straighten my hair with a cast on.  I mean seriously…my hair doesn’t lay flat naturally!  I am so screwed.  Ok…I was also thinking about a testicle the size of a red delicious apple, but that’s neither here nor there.

So the evening wears on, I get comfy in bed and surprisingly have a great sleep.  Saturday I notice that my arm is feeling a little hot under the cast…I mean burning hot.  I take another look at the instruction sheet that hospital gave me.  Hmmm…it says that’s normal.  Ok, then.

 The day went on, uneventful.  The kid’s dad actually came over shovelled my driveway AND offered to go to the drugstore to pick me up some pain medication.  I know…I am as confused as the rest of you.  Anyway, I had a glorious 4 hour nap and a relaxing evening. 

When I woke up Sunday morning, I noticed that I had a hive like rash coming up my arm, from under the cast, going all the way up past my elbow.  What the hell!  Lucky for me, the hospital forgot to give me the paperwork I needed for work, so back to the emergency room I go. 

Turns out, I am having an allergic reaction to “something” (the official diagnosis), the cast comes off and surprise surprise, I have full range of motion in my wrist.  They “suspect” that it’s not fractured at all and want to re-xray it.  I decline, telling them that I would rather walk around with a fully broken wrist than risk picking up whatever the hacking lady in the waiting room was suffering with.

Agreeing to wear my sling and not lift anything heavy, they let me go with a promise to appear at my ortho clinic appointment.  Little did she know, I had my fingers crossed behind my back. 

Feeling  great, I spent the day celebrating by running errands and browsing through stacks of old books at the local antique store.

All in all, my weekend was like an action packed movie.  I laughed, I cried, I straightened my hair.