Quarantined!
I’ve been stricken down by that nucleosis known as MONO. *insert kissing disease joke here* But apparently it’s a pretty interesting thing, according to that obnoxious little know-it-all WebMD. See, when I was little I had all sorts of problems in the tonsil region, so we yanked those suckers out at age 12. Apparently tonsil-less folk like me shouldn’t be this affected by the mono, but my other glands still hate me so they’re swelling up extra huge to make up for the lack of useless organs in my throat. My body is a jerk. Plus there’s this whole slew of potential other things that could be cooking all up in my juice, so we’ll just see where that goes.
Because my body rebels against all of the ill-advised reckless shit I put it through, here are a few of the many and varied occurences of medical oddities that have afflicted me:
Age 10: My horse decides to be a jerk and buck me off, breaking the growth plate in my right arm. Luckily, surgery was able to make sure I didn’t end up with one itty bitty ungrown arm. Two days after surgery, I got on the same horse who bucked me off again. And so we have concussion number one.
Age 11: A snow globe explodes in my hands, slicing my pinkie bad enough to require nine stitches. To this day, still no idea how it happened.
Age 12: Gettin’ them tonsils out. They gave me way too much anesthetic and apparently almost resorted to using the paddles to snap me out of it. I slept for two and a half days, waking only to puke up the blood I swallowed. Oh, and be tee dub, while I was under they decided to throw some tubes in my ears.
Age 13: My horse troubles continue and I get bucked off again. (Shut up, I train horses, it’s an occupational hazard.) This time it’s my poor little thumb that gets snapped. Nothing too weird about this, other than that now its full of the arthritis and I can tell when it’s gonna rain. Oh, and concussion number two.
Age 16: WORST PAIN OF MY LIFE. Because I’m the person that I am, I like to do things very fast that I’m really just not coordinated enough to handle. One of these things is the Risky Business sock slide. Well, one fateful day after branding, I thought I’d do said slide down the hall. I usually stop by falling or hitting a wall, and today was no different. However, on the floor next to the wall was a bag of used cow needles from branding. I managed to thrust my foot against that bag, simultaneously poking one of the needles out and pressing the bag against the wall which pushed in the plunger. Yep, just injected myself with cow enzyme. Good way to get blood poisoning, apparently. But the hell of it is, I didn’t even realize what had happened. I was just like, “why on earth did that hurt so bad?” Six hours later, I didn’t care how it happened because my foot was twice it’s normal size and I had to crawl upstairs to call for help. Crutches experience number one.
Age 17: Fall through some ice in a frozen river. I was able to pull myself out, but got all these scrapes and, you guessed it, concussion number three.
Age 18: Fall off the big blow up obstacle course set up by the National Guard and tear all three ligaments in my right ankle. Crutches experience number two. Also, it ended my varsity golf career and forced me to wear freaking ugly pink crocs all around Russia because they were the only shoes that my brace could fit under.
Age 19: Fall off the top bunk on a bunk bed. Concussion number three. Almost O’D'ed on ibuprofen. Then thought it was Thursday all week. Go me.
And now. The mono, and possibly more. At least none of this was a result of my falling….well at least not in a way that I can connect. Now it’s time for more sleep.
Probably my favorite blog post of all of yours. I enjoy laughing at other people’s pain. Except the cow needle. EFF that would hurt.
Obstacle Course, good times. How did we not have your in a wheelchair for the class prophecy?
Haha, thanks Trevor. Well, we had me rolling away on a stretcher into an ambulance. I thought it fit well.