“Soft tissues are unremarkable.”
Sunday, April 23, 2006
The hospital sent my x-rays over today. I find x-rays very pretty—the strange, interlocking shapes, the graininess, the shadows, the ghostly blue. I think I’ll use mine as placemats.
I was as paranoid in the emergency room as I was back when I had myself checked for that freaky leg paralysis last year. Every time they had me lie down on one of those cold tables, I kept on thinking that one of them would bring some very sharp object out and hack at my leg. They could do pretty much anything to me when I’m on those tables, after all. The hospital is a very dangerous—and yes, possibly kinky—place.
This probably explains why I stayed up until the wee hours to watch
Saw. I think the accident changed my degree of appreciation for gore. I’m not really accident-prone (well, physical accidents, anyway), so I used to love watching violence because it was just downright amusing. I never really tried to empathize with any of the victims. It was just fun to watch them get maimed. Now, however, I think I’m beginning to appreciate the violence because I have a point of reference. It’s an ant bite compared to whatever horrific shit goes on in those films, but I think I enjoy telling myself, “Oh, see that doctor guy slicing his ankle off with a hacksaw? Imagine the pain in your ankle magnified a hundred million bazillion times. That’s why he’s screeching.”
This probably also explains why I still stayed up after
Saw to watch
Distraction, this sick, fascinating British game show. In the final round for that particular episode, each question correctly answered, while bringing the contestant closer to a brand new car, also merited him a brand new piercing on whichever body part the host fancied. Of course there was a nipple involved.
A lot of people have been asking me if the accident traumatized me in any way (the prize for Best Question Delivery goes to my cousin Whammy; the little bastard was absolutely thrilled to know that I couldn’t walk right). It scares me a little that it doesn’t. It was an awful, awful experience, true. And I’m
extremely, incredibly, tremendously grateful to all the well-wishers. But I’m more ticked off than traumatized. And I’m only really ticked off because pain sucks hard in general and I’ve become a lot less mobile. I don’t know if some crucial tidbit hasn’t sunk in yet or if I’m really just this way, but either way, the thought scares me a little. I mean, I’m watching bloody, gory stuff on cable now because I find my ability to relate to the victims so darn enjoyable. It’s screwy and I can’t even begin to explain it.
Well, Whammy and I are off to the mall now. I think he only asked me to go with him so he could see me hobble around like an invalid in public. Funny, the things that amuse us.
posted by marguerite @ 12:48 PM
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