Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Old Jobs, New Jobs, Broken Bones & Piss
Okay, so I have two more days at my current job....I'm going to have a hell of a time trying to get everything in order for the next dumb ass...I mean person that fills the position. And the process has been greatly compromised.
Let me explain.
Tonight, my youngest son (he's 10) was at church and the brilliant organizer's of his age group thought that it would be a good idea for the kids to do a relay race....with OTHER children on their backs...
Yes, I know. Morons.
Lets just say that D.C. got his coordination gene from his mother, which means that he trips over his own feet on a regular basis. (Hey, I got beauty and brains - God didn't see fit to bless me with gracefulness, too - what do you expect? A trifecta?)
Anyhow, he takes two steps and does a face plant. AND BREAKS HIS FRIGGIN' WRIST IN HALF!!!!
Baby Jesus, please help me.
So, he was there with my sister in law and I was out picking up dinner when she called, and as I was wearing my ghetto ass slippers (they're actually fuzzy green, with leopard print detailing - don't judge me), I hauled ass home to put on some real shoes and beat a trail to the hospital.
I calmed him down, bless his little heart, and they took x-rays, where it was discovered that he broke one of the bones in his wrist clear through. What was weird, he only broke one of them, which is apparently rare (YAY, D.C., way to be unique) which also made it more difficult to set.
Before they sedated him, he let me know that he had to pee, really, really bad. They wouldn't let him get up, hence, I had to hold a little urinal with him laying down.
I think I traumatized him for life. Not because I saw his wee-wee. No, not that.
I was shaking, as my nerves are never good when traumatic shit is going down and his thing slipped out of the top of the urinal, so he proceeded to piss on him and me both. He's yelling at me at the top of his lungs, I'm trying to grab his thingie and shove it back into the top of the plastic thingie and managed to dump everything that had made it in the urinal all over his lap.
Yes. It was a damn mess.
I'm just glad he was on morphine and I hope the memory might be dim around the edges. God help me.
So, we had to cut his shirt (which piss had soaked) off of him, take the rest of his clothes off and clean him up, remove all the bedding, before we could settle him back down.
I really wish the nurse would have let me help him to the bathroom.
In the end, all the nurses and everyone in the hall way heard him yelling at me because my hand slipped. Yes, they got a good laugh out of it all.
And, honestly, reading this post, I think some type of comedy should be created based on the stupid shit that seems to constantly be happening to me.
I'm also trying to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to finish my job with a gimped up child that can't go to school in a splint AND how I'm supposed to start my new job on Monday when I have to get a cast slapped on him the same day?
Do you think it would be frowned upon if I brought D to work with me my first day on the job?