Well, at work yesterday, I somehow managed to (very un-gracefully, I might add) roll my ankle, and sprained it. Yay me. As if we need another of 10000000 things piling on top of our already shit-filled life.
Oh and get this: the DC Jack of my laptop (for you non-tech savvy persons, i'm referring to the hole where the power cord for the laptop plugs into the computer at) somehow managed to stop working. the current, on-going theory is, in short, it got shocked and fried it. So now, my computer is running on battery fumes and an increasingly odd situation. My battery is only at 16% life, meaning about 20 minutes. However, when I have the computer plugged in, the life extends to about 1000 hours. Its like the cable is somehow going straight to powering the battery, and the battery is powering the laptop. So, until I can get my computer to a computer repair shop (or my lovely and talented friend, Dakota, who lives in fucking California) i'm just kinda running on prayers. And apparently, extended battery life. Although, 1000 hours is only like 41 and a half days. So I have a limited amount of time to get it repaired.
On to my ankle. I dunno exactly what happened, but I was doing dishes, and I turned to the counter behind me to get some pans, and (I think) I slid in water and just rolled the ankle to a lovely L shape. I tried to work on it for about 10-20 minutes, but I was almost in tears (I refuse to cry around those jerks up there. I don't need them to get me shit about something else.) and I finally just said, "I can't do this. It frickin' hurts." So, I attempted to go to my family doctor, but she was like "oh we dont' have an x-ray machine." So then, I attempted to get in at the doctor mom and the girls use, but they were like "If it happened on the job, regardless of how or why it happened, it qualifies as an on-the-job accident, and therefore she needs to go through worker's comp before we can see her." My response was "Fine, i'll just sit here and rot, cuz you see how that will happen. It won't." So, I got back to work and tell them that the doctor won't see me without worker's comp info, and before I could finish, Amber was like 'you need to fill out an accident report." and I was like 'WTF I was just gonna give up Dr treatments, go home, rest, and pray it's not broken." But I filled out the paperwork, which turned out to be a blank sheet of paper where I write what happened, sign it, date it, and write the approximate time it happened. Then, Amber slams the window shut and leaves. So I assume, "I'm clear to go to the Hospital now."
So I get all the way to the damn hospital, and start filling out paperwork and was about to get x-rayed when Amber calls me back and says I have to come back to work (an approximate 30 minute drive) and fill out the correct paperwork and talk to the boss. So, at this time i'm thinking 'fuck this shit." But everyone is worried, knowing me and my medical records, that I fractured it, so Daddy drives me back to work, where I spend about 30 minutes, between filling out paperwork, talking to Dustin, and listening to Amber trying to talk me out of going to the doctor (Dustin is the general Manager, who tried to blame my shoes and say that i wasn't supposed to be wearing them and therefore worker's comp shouldn't cover it. Which basically meant that they randomly decided a rule against the particular pair of shoes I had been wearing at the time to get themselves outta trouble. Like, if they had had the mats there, where they are supposed to have mats, I wouldn't have slipped in water. But Government regulations be damned. We only obey rules we make up on the spot!).
So, finally, armed with all the proper paperwork (it's now well after 4pm. The accident happened around 2pm) we head to the hospital. I give them the paperwork, they help me make sense of it, because Dusting would only talk to me on the phone and no one knew how to fill out the paperwork or what was supposed to be filled out. They get me x-rayed, and the verdict is (2 hours after getting to the hospital) that it's a sprain, possible fracture but they can't tell because of the swelling, so we treat it as a sprain. And then, when we would normally head home (I remember that it was 6:22pm when I looked at my phone at this point) I'm told that we're gonna have to wait "a while" because they are trying to figure out how to do the drug test, because the hospital I went to doesn't have an MRO on staff. (I forget what an MRO is, but it's like medical review officer or something, and they basically view the drug test and say whether or not I had any drugs in my system at the time of my accident.)
One of the very nice ladies at the hospital explained all this to us, and told us that the manager she talked to at the store was "just a manager and said she didn't know what information they needed" or something along those lines, and gave her Dustin's number. Dustin somehow (and knowing him, it was very easily) missunderstood what was being told to him, and heard "no MRO" as "refusal to treat", and passed them along to Richard, who proceeded to chew out the lady at the hospital (who really is a very nice lady) about bothering him on his vacation. She said that he seemed 'very concerned" about them disturbing his vacation, and not very concerned about their inability to administer a drug test.
Finally, after much confusion, an elderly guy in a labcoat showed up, took me into a lab, had me empty my pockets and pee in a cup. I was amazed at all the drama over a little bit of pee. Although, in truth, it was like half a friggin cup of pee, because by this time I had needed to pee for about 4 hours.
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