Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong (shadesong) wrote,
Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong

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My Day, by shadesong, as typed by yendi

yendi: "I hate this keyboard."

shadesong: "We can use yours."

yendi: "Then I couldn't complain about it."

'song started out today by calling the orthopedist, for whom she had a referral. The orthopedist would not allow her to make an appointment because, in the case of a work-related injury, the appointment has to be made by workman's comp people, which 'song didn't know, because there were no signs posted in her work area, and her department chair had no clue either.

So 'song spent a while Googling* around, and calling random numbers that sounded like they could be of service. She left a message for somebody, who called back and told her she had to call somebody else. And she did, and they called her back, and told her she had to call somebody else. This went on for a while.

Finally, (Adam:"and without warning..." 'song, nodding) and without warning, the battle was joined** 'song received actual useful information. Turns out, she had to go to the hospital, and get evaluated by a nurse practitioner in the Workman's Comp Department.

So she sallied forth, and was poked and prodded, and had her wrist twisted a lot. She received her referral to the same damned orthopedist she should have been able to make an appointment with this morning, a variety of wrist braces, reiteration that she needed to stay home, an admonition that she probably needed to limit things at work when she went back to work, and the promise of an ergonomic evaluation of her workspace.

So, very little actual progress made. Lot of chasing around the hospital, though. And she got to watch last night's Tivoed Olympics. And she's bored senseless. She didn't have much sense to begin with***, but trust me, the boring was, indeed, thorough.

Please send chocolate and cabana boys.

*Adam: "Is that how you spell Googling?"

**Yes, this is how we actually talk.

***'song's comment, not Adam's editorializing.
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