I’ve been sick now for …nine weeks and five days. I can’t keep solid foods down and liquids won;t stay down either. I am sore from the every kind of puking you can envision. Gagging, projectile, hanging my head out the car window, tossing my cookins in my lap, in sinks, in toilets (boy, you get a birds eye view of the level of cleanliness in some people’s homes and it has made me appreciate those stalwart soles who take brush in hand and bleach in the other!).
On top of this, I have a staph infection. My gut really hurts and is hot like a soldering weld and I have been digging at myself in the middle of the night. I have gouged a big hole in my stomach and a couple of little ones up under my ribs. The big hole is big enough for a spoon to fit into. I keep them covered and have sticky crap to put on them and I’m taking pills that would kill a horse…but every morning, I’ve managed to rip off the big band aids and dig some more. I’ll probably get gangrene of the gut and will have to go to a vet to be put down.
And my shredded shoulder is FINALLY going to get fixed. I saw my surgeon the other day and I guess I looked properly pitiful. So maybe as soon as next Wednesday, I’ll get the two tears, the bone spurs and the big rip under my shoulderblade fixed. And yes, it does sound like a lot and painful to boot because IT IS.
I hurt myself last NOVEMBER and worked with this floppy mess until the end of January, when my supervison (I can’t even say her name) decided that “we” just could not work around me anymore. WTF? I was working away like I always had. Nothing had slowed down. I didn’t ask for ANYTHING. I think she thought that maybe I’d have my pay cut to zero…she is pretty new at this and didn’t understand that if an employee got hurt at work, then it was a work related injury. One of the librarians got hit in the head by a falling bulletin board—work related injury.
Same librarian fell on a puddle of water (drip from the ceiling)…work related injury. So there I was, planning to work away until surgery and she decideds “we” just aren’t going to be able to accomodate me. So I dropped of the daily paperwork and left. My students? I’m sure the Royal We didn’t let them know I was gone. The six boxes of cell work that was ready to go out on Friday are probably still on the floor of my office. The 180 bits of homework I needed to correct? Those guys will never see them again. It’s just like I was murdered and tossed off the hill.
Well, not really, I am still alive and here to do whatever it is that I do again and some more. But I certainly felt pretty despensible.