You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry

I twisted my foot yesterday. At an Excel course I was taking. I won't hold it against you for thinking I went loco on Excel's ass. Maybe some table or formula wouldn't do my bidding?

Didn't seem like a big thing at the time, twisting it. It hurt like a mofo, but I elevated it and cooled it down and figured I would be able to get around under my own power without a problem. This morning it was a whole new ball game. As in I had a swelling the size of a tennis ball on the side of my foot.

So I went to the emergency room, reluctantly, since hospitals are Hell incarnate to me. Really, I become physically nauseous just walking into one.

Today I found out there are two emergency rooms at the hospital closest to our apartment. The first one is the regular ER, where traffic accident victims and stab victims and the dying go. I spent hours at one of those ERs a couple of years ago. Not a pleasant experience. The second one turned out to be drab and dull, but very uneventful. A crying child and a construction worker with broken fingers were the height of drama.

Finally they X-rayed my foot. Over and over and over. Twisted and turned my sore, swollen ankle. Well done, really.

The foot, dumbasses. Not the face. The foot.

In typical Swedish health care fashion I had several waiting periods, and also long walks down horribly brown and gray corridors, shuffling along as best I could, supported by a crutch. Hours passed from when I got there until I got the results of the X-rays. So I got hungry.

I'm not very pleasant to be around when I'm hungry. I get cranky and it shows. The only reason I didn't skewer someone with a random medical device is that no one was around. Maybe they were having lunch, the bastards.

They had to restrain me once my blood sugar dropped.
Things could have gotten nasty.

Nothing major, it turns out, just a sprained ankle. Supportive bandages and a crutch for a couple of weeks, at most. Annoying, but doable. And I got a lot of material for a story about hospitals out of it. Friends think I should claim a bear mauled my foot. No one's gonna buy that. I'll go with rhinoceros.

Blood is a precious thing in these times

It’s a well-known fact that I’m a complete klutz. I spill milk. I drop things without any apparent reason. I fall out of all kinds of furniture to the amusement of others (mostly Mah Girl though).

Yet another notch on my belt today.

I was making pancakes, and turned around to adjust the volume on the CD player, when my feet decided it was a good idea to become entangled in two pieces of luggage on the floor. Why is there luggage on the kitchen floor, you ask? Why, because our landlord decided to renovate our basement storage area a while back, we had to store all our crap in the apartment and we’re so lazy we haven’t moved it back yet.

Anyway. Feet in luggage. I fell. Someone, somewhere, surely yelled “Timmmmbeeeeeerrrr!”. I managed to avoid smashing my face against the kitchen bench, and managed to fit my arm into the space between the bench and the shelf. All of it luck rather than skill.

On my feet, with minor aches and pains in my arms and legs and The Head. Continued making pancakes. Noticed a warm sensation on my shin. Whaddaya know? Blood!

All Band-Aid:ed up. Yes, those are ninjas.

It’s also a well-known fact that I’m a pale and hairy man. Pale Force, here I come!

Oh. And a short little something that took place in our loving home today.

Mah Girl: I almost pinched your ass…
(and here I was about to say “thank you for refraining from it”, as she continued)
…but then you moved away too quickly.

Can you feel the love?