So at school today I got a nosebleed out of nowhere. That indicates to me that my blood may be too thin. It doesn't stop bleeding for some time so I walk to the front office, holding a bloody tissue to my face. The health assistant, the registrar, and the bookkeeper see me, freak out a little, tell me I look like crap, and threaten to call an ambulance. Despite my protests that you don't call an ambulance for a nosebleed, and that antibiotics are the reason I look and feel awful, they continue to
So the paramedics arrive, and much to the delight of my co-workers, they're both attractive guys. Fabulous. I explain that I was in the hospital last week and that the antibiotics I'm on are the reason I feel like a shriveled sausage casing filled with the muck that clogs your shower drain.
The one medic agrees that yes, Flagyl is of the devil and will make you feel awful. The other guy gets to work checking my blood sugar, strapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm, and applying stickers to my legs, arms, stomach, chest, face, scalp, and big toe. I'm mortified as he's sticking these leads to my skin because I'm sweating like crazy. My back is stuck to the chair with sweat. Through my shirt. Super classy.
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In the end, it was determined that I was sweaty and disgusting, but I'd live. I started heading back to my classroom as the health assistant came to the determination that she must play matchmaker.
"What's your number, Dawn? I'm going to give it to that paramedic."
"No."
"Come on. I'm going out there," she said as she grabbed a sticky note and a pen.
"Um still no."
"I'm giving him your number," she trailed off as she headed toward the door.
"
I like to think she's a good-hearted person who just suffers from mental illness.
She actually walked out the door toward the ambulance, so I turned on my heel and headed to my class, confident that she didn't actually have my number. I was wrong. So there's a random paramedic in Orlando who probably thinks that the old, fat, sweaty woman who can't handle antibiotics actually asked the health assistant to give him her number.
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I thought about throat-punching her, but my school has this thing where they frown upon physical violence in the workplace. Plus, if I crushed her trachea, they'd probably call the ambulance back and well, I think I suffered enough embarrassment for one day.
3 comments:
Oh I so hope you start feeling better! But my gosh, even when miserable, you can make anything funny and entertaining. P.S. I woukd of gone for the throat punch! Oops I am so sweaty my arm slipped!!
Hugs from the West side of the country. If I could, I would bring your family dinner, and insist you go to bed while I did your dishes. I'm sure your kiddos would help, right? ;-) Hope you are better soon!
I'm sorry you're feeling so bad. Do you have Monday off? Hopefully the 3 day weekend will give you time to rest and heal!
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