12:02 p.m. - 2006-07-12
goosky
I know, it is very sad that I'm down to once monthly entries now. It's the nature of being engaged, I guess. I know that's lame. I'm sorry. It's just that the blog worthy tales come at me faster when life is less hectic. I have time to observe things and think about them. Life has been going by in flashes these days, which I don't like because I feel like I'm missing it. After we get married, more to come, I promise.
Kevin and I spent most of last week's monday night in the emergency room. Kevin had this, um, abcess, that needed to be um, drained, because it was causing him excruciating pain.
I hate the emergency waiting room. HATE IT. It's DIRTY. There was, like, dried drool on my chair. You can't recline even a little bit anywhere unless you want to lie on the lanoleam that probably has Asian Bird Flu and Hepatitis on it. There are sick people there. Coughing on you. When I go, I have to use sanitizing gel every 13 seconds. And there is also always a really horrible person in the waiting room. Like the abusive boyfriend who brought his girlfriend there after he hit her. Or the husband who is pissed at his wife for spraining her ankle at 3am.
And then, they always try and rush you out of there, once you've actually, finally gotten to speak with someone with some sort of medical background, usually, like the janitor of the hospital, which at that point, you'll totally take as long as he can offer you a painkiller and a more comfortable chair.
In this case, this "nurse practitioner" came in, barely said two words, pushed on the swollen, red, golf-ball sized bump on Kevin's chest which cause him to almost punch her in the neck, and said "Oh, we'll just put a little neosporin on that and send you right home."
I leaned over the bed and was like "Um, so are you telling us you're basically not going to do anything for him after we;ve been here for 5 hours?" (she answers blah blah blah) so I say something along the lines of "Yeah, mm-kay, I really think we need to take care of this today, so maybe the doctor could take a look?" Nurse practitioners DO NOT like it when you point out that they are not an actual doctor. See, I could never be one of those because I'd feel like my whole life I'd be walking around kicking things and pouting, thinking "I"m PRACTICALLY a doctor. I'm ALMOST a doctor." See, I say go for the MD or the OD or the DoT or whatever they offer these days.
So, the nurse practitioner's insecurities obviously ruffled at this point, but hey, when the man you love is threatening to cut out his own cyst with a pencil, you gotta do what you gotta do.
She kind of grumbles and says she'll send him in. He comes in, does a little poke and says "Ooh, we need to take care of that today."
I couldn't help being a bit smug.
So she numbed Kevin up and managed to squeeze out about a Grande cup from Starbuck's worth of yucky, chunky, nast. I told Kels the details and she nearly passed out (over EMAIL, mind you) so I'll refrain.
In addition to that adventure, we have recently come into ownership of another cat. We are not keeping it only because having three cats would make us weird. So it is living in Kevin's garage until we find it a proper home. It's about a year old, black and white, totally friendly and adorable. In fact, writing about this right now, I am missing her. Her name is Goosky. I haven't seen her for a few days because I haven't been to Kevin's. Goosky was found by me and Kevin outside of a bar of the same name (which is obviously why we named her that) and she was totally pathetic and almost starved to death. Her stupid former owners put a bell around her neck, using a bread twist tie to attach it to her cheap, filthy collar. A cat on the street cannot catch mice if the mouse hears the bell coming a mile away. Stupid idiots. Kevin and I are the exact people a starving stray animal should want to be found by. Neither of us could ever not do something about such a situation. So we tried to take her to the cat shelter but it had moved like 20 miles away. So we took it to an emergency vet.
The emergency vet seemed to have a lot of people who worked there but noe of them was an actual vet and therefore they could not do anything at all for us except scan her body to see if she had one of those chips that shows who the owner is. Thank God she didn't because if she had an owner, and it put that bell on her and let her starve, I would have to borrow my mother's snub nosed revolver and go and take care of business.
So they gave us some food and some flea medication and we took her to Kevin's.
Anyone want a cat that follows you around, doesn't run away and is always happy to see you?
