I woke up on Sunday unable to walk. My left leg was killing me. My leg had been hurting for the past week but I ignored it because that's what I do. It felt like a bad pulled muscle so I figured it would get better in time and I'd be fine. The whole not being able to walk thing made me think otherwise.
A bit reluctantly took a trip to the emergency room. It was 9am when I arrived. 20 minutes later I was checked in and sitting in on the squeakiest hospital bed in history while wearing a hospital gown (woot for firsts!).
Finally at about 9:45 the doctor came in (who was super hot, good thing I didn't get ready before I came in). He poked my leg with his finger and made me cry. Then I was told I needed a ultrasound on my leg just to make sure it wasn't anything serious, he thought it was just a strained muscle. Oh, silly doctor. Just learn to listen to my opinion regarding my body and you'll always be right. It wasn't a strained muscle. I was officially admitted to the hospital at 10:22 am. I had a bracelet and a hospital gown so I could show everyone my bum and severe leg pain with ease. I had made it to the top of the ER patient hierarchy.
This is about the time my mom showed up. We sat and watched reruns of America's Best Dance Crew, some show about making over your basement and many, many commercials. Finally Dr. Tom (yes, that's how he introduced himself. Not Dr. Baker, Dr. Tom) came in to let me know we were waiting for the Radiologist on call to get there. Thanks for the heads up, Dr. Tom, I've only been sitting here taking pictures of my feet for an hour. Good thing you're so cute.
Radiologist shows up. She goobers my leg with the ultrasound jelly, it's surprisingly warm. I am happy, until she starts. Holy torture of all medical torture. Not that it hurt when she started at my hip but it tickled so bad and I didn't want to laugh and look like an idiot so I was biting my lip, thinking of sad things, pinching myself...anything to not laugh in the middle of an ultrasound. Then she gets to my calf and the real torture begins. I have never wanted to punch someone in the face as much as I wanted to punch this lovely at that moment. Let me give you a pain scale. 1 is swinging in a hammock, drinking lemonade while on vacation in Jamaica. 5 is getting punched in the face by a dying teacher. 10 is getting punched in the face while giving birth to a 16 pound baby without an epidural. This pain was about an 8 which translates to a Radiologist giving your blood clotted calf a shiatsu massage.
That's right, she found a blood clot, just like I thought. Maybe I should be a doctor on weekends. So I was put on blood thinners and sent on my way. Hallelujah I didn't have to stay at the hospital! My mom was convinced I'd have to. So inbetween taking pictures of my feet and watching America's Best Dance Crew, I was plotting an elaborate escape plan so I could go to school on Monday (sub plans are more difficult than just teaching through the pain!)
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