Diagnosis: You're Useless
After three weeks in Italy, spending nearly every morning climbing to the top of duomos and walking to church after church after church, I thought that my legs were going to give out and fall off. I'd be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, but oh, the memories of Italy I'd have! Unfortunately for me, it wasn't my legs that gave out, it was my right hand (insert immature masturbation joke here).
About a week after I got home, my hand started hurting like a bitch. I tried to ignore it, hoping that it would go away (kind of like my alcohol problem- JKJKJKJK), but it didn't. Finally, I gave up and went to the ER. They took x-rays and since nothing was broken or fractured, they didn't know what to do. Here's a conversation I had with the doctor:
Doctor: Have you been doing a lot of yard work?
Doctor: Have you been doing a lot of housework? Scrubbing and stuff?
Doctor: How about a lot of mousing?
Me: Excuse me?
Doctor: You know, being on the computer.
So here's my diagnosis: tendonitis due to "excessive mousing." Congratulations, Amanda, you just got the nerdiest diagnosis in the history of the world! I couldn't hurt my hand falling off a cliff or even playing the guitar too much, it's because I'm "mousing" too much. Great. So they gave me an ace bandage and sent me on my merry way.
Unfortunately, my hand didn't get any better. Why? Because I'm either on the computer 8 hours a day at my job at Righteous Babe, or I'm constantly chopping things when I'm working in the kitchen at the Country Club. At this point, it gets scary because all I see in my future is usage of a computer for a minimum of 8 hours a day. I guess I'll have to demand an assistant right away. And then I'll just dictate what I need to type to her. That'd be interesting. I can't imagine ever reading one of the emails I send to Kari out loud to someone. "Ok, assistant. Here goes. DEAR JERK. I hate chu so much. O-m-g. O-m-g..." It goes on like that.
So I go to a specialist and he tells me that I could have the pain FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE or it'll go away in a few weeks and never come back again. GOOD.
I guess it's fun to be vague. Something I know that I'll never master.
Labels: Bitter Bitching