OK, going to the Emergency Room sucks. Spending 2 hours in the process just to have them tell you what you knew all along sucks as well.Earlier today (11/13/04 about 5:30 or 6pm), I was walking into my room, when my ankle twisted and popped. I threw myself on the floor because it hurt so badly, I didn't even want to try and walk anymore. So my mom comes over and looks at me and wraps my ankle in an ace bandage. The funny part is, Sir Lesley decided to call when I was lying on the floor screaming and crying in anguish...so he got to hear me whine, cry, and 'wallow' like a baby. Sexy, huh?
So, whilst on the phone, I military crawl into my actual room and continue to lie on the floor. (If you're not seeing what this has to do with anything, be patient. It's amusing.) Eventually, I get on the bed....uncomfortably to say the least.
Anyway, fast forwarding here. Kristin and Mike decide to take me to the ER, o passify those who needed passifying so they could stop 'worrying'. So I go, and it's a hurry up and wait situation. Two hours, three very condescending medical professionals (I'm not 5 people, I can understand big people talk!!), and three very painful X-rays (awkward positions) later, the doctor comes back and says "Nothing Broken, just twisted. Ice, elevation, and pain medication, and you'll be fine before you know it." Yay. Big freaking, sarcastic, yay.
I was hoping it'd be broken, just to make it worth my time. Oh well. There's always next time...
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