No greater truth was ever spoken

So, those of you who read yesterday's post (which, if you haven't yet, you should go read before this one) know that I tussled with a raccoon on Sunday night. Because of said tussle, I ended up in the ER for about 3 hours yesterday waiting on a rabies vaccine. (Let me also say that before I went to the ER , I went to the dentist and got two fillings replaced. So my face was half numb when I got there.) I don't have to tell many of you this, but the ER is an entertaining place. My three hours were full of interesting and gross happenings. They didn't put me in a bed, I guess because I wasn't actually injured (per se). I was given a vinyl easy chair (that same kind the Hubs slept on when I had babies at this hospital) in a corner. So, I could see and hear everything.

There was a man who came in not long after me because of a leg wound he thought was leading to a blood clot or something. The nurse continually assured him that everything looked fine, and he was worrying over nothing. He had come in yesterday for treatment. He asked about blood thinner. He wanted to be admitted. He had packed a bag. He also had a wound on his abdomen that was infected (MRSA-lovely). All these wounds were in the various stages of healing, and as I said, the nurse and doctor continually assured him of this, yet I was assaulted with words like "abscess" and "puss" and "three huge, black clots." I was gagging. THEN, after speaking to the nurses and doctor, Patient Pantywaist had a lengthy phone conversation with his father where he described in great detail the cleaning of the wound the nurse had done the previous night. "... then they stuffed paper towels in the hole... the puss was... lesions... draining..." BARF! Not long after this, PP let out a humongous and disgusting belch. You know, one of those that borders on vomit. Ugh. I was not sad to see him leave.

In the next bed, we had a young man who was backhanded (in the private parts, as far as I can tell) by his roommate. Other than that, Patient Privates was not very interesting.

In the third bed, we had a young woman who had been in a car accident that morning, but come in after the fact. What was most entertaining about her is that I overheard her ask the nurse, "If you have a boob job, and one boob explodes, can they tell that on an x-ray?" A legitimate question, Patient Pecho. I did not hear the answer, but I did hear her insist one felt flatter than the other. I also heard her call what I only assume is her plastic surgeon's office to determine if her girls were saline or silicone. (Saline)

The nurse handled all this with humor and grace, which I did not expect in the ER. My favorite part was when the doctor was looking at the raccoon bite on my leg, and the nurse came over to check it out and muttered, "Bastard!" under her breath. (I assumed she was referring to the raccoon, and not to either the doctor or me.) I was a little put off when she had earlier said, "So, the attack was provoked?" (What? You're taking the raccoon's side? Unbelievable!) It was just a miscommunication, though. "Oh, you kicked it after it attached itself to your leg."

I ended up getting 6 shots, one tetanus and the rest rabies. (1 in the left arm, 2 in the right, one in each hip, and one on the thigh) When did you last have a shot in your left hip? It hurt like a mother. I also have to go to the health department three or four more times in the next two weeks for more shots. Lucky me! Not only do I get to get MORE shots, I get to do it at the health department! Oh well. While I'm out there, I might actually get Malcolm's birth certificate fixed. (Patrick is listed as "Patrick Lee." They only make you check that form 25 times in the hospital, so the mistake was not on my end. Somebody made a typo, and 3 years later, Malcolm still doesn't have a birth certificate. Do you know how hard it is to change a birth certificate? Good thing we haven't needed to flee the country or anything.)

Anyway, I'd like to end with the words of wisdom my father imparted to me when I told him about the whole ordeal:

Shit happens.