Physical Drama II: Emergency Room Boogaloo
Friday I was lunching at Houston’s own Vietnam Town’s own Pho Saigon, and I got up to powder my nose, and my kitten heel skid on some grease or a bean sprout or something, and I fell and, in doing so, put out my hand to sort of try to break said fall, I guess. Well, what happened instead was that I almost broke my freaking thumb.
It bent sideways at a horribly, nauseatingly unnatural angle. I guess it actually dislocated itself. I stared at it in horror and disbelief and then, like a Looney Toons character, shook my hand. The thumb was back in place again. Nearby patrons and a waitstaffer asked if I was okay and, wanting to stand up before my lunch partner noticed me on the ground, I assured them I was fine and made my way back to the table.
Shaken but with a goofy fake smile plastered on my face, I told my friend what had happened, downplaying the actual damage. He expressed concern and then hurried to pay the bill. I picked up my water glass to hydrate myself one last time before going back to work. And, oh my god, my freaking thumb bent sideways again! Ow! Christ! Oh my gosh! My friend led me to the parking lot where I spent a good fifteen minutes trying not to faint or vomit in the shrubbery.
Long story short, we ended up in a local emergency room for three hours or so while I got fed Vicodin and x-rayed. Thank God I have such a good friend in Dat, because he kept me company and made me laugh, even though I know it must have been a total drag to spend his afternoon at the hospital like that. (See — I only capitalize God when I’m being serious. When I’m just taking a name in vain, any uncapitalized deity will do.) We laughed so hard and had such a distracting-from-pain good time, a nun came by to punish us. Well, ostensibly she was there to ask if I was okay and offer her professional comfort. But I know she really wanted to spank my hand with a ruler for being a naughty girl.
Long story five paragraphs long, my thumb isn’t broken. Only sprained. Now it’s all swollen like a red and purple monster thumb from a radioactive sewer, though, and it still hurts like hell, and ice doesn’t really help. I’ll probably stay home tomorrow, because it hurts to drive my car and to button my pants. (Not to type this story, though. Woo hoo for y’all.)
I will never eat at Pho Saigon again. Just thinking about it makes me think about my thumb being bent all crazy, and that makes me want to vomit. Their food is good, though, so don’t let my experience deter y’all.
