Thursday, September 18, 2008

One week and one day into my job. That's how long it took me to have a story of awesome to relate to you.

I am starting to feel pretty good about my capabilities in this position. We have a corporate manager in our store for the next two or so weeks. Today was her first day. I was going out to my car to get my clothes for yoga. I had done floor charts, taught her the safe & alarm codes, did the specials for the evening, and was feeling ready to get my stretch on. I had on the cutest plaid tights today, and my former Amigo Especial kept staring at me. It was turning out to be a great day! Yay!

So, I was coming in through the back kitchen, to the office without having to walk through the whole restaurant. I had my clothes in my hand. I caught a piece of ice with the heel of my shoe. As I started slipping backwards, I leaned forward to balance myself. Hard into the corner of the ice machine. With my face. I immediately knew it was no good. It stung tremendously, and my adrenaline was pumping. I went into the office, holding my hand over my eye. I moved my hand. I saw the blood. My catering manager saw it, widened her eyes and said "Stitches! I'm driving you!" I declined. I said let me just bandage it up. I have to take care of my class. She said "Um, no way sister. Get in the car." I pleaded for several minutes. I made several phone calls to the owner of my studio and also to a fellow teacher/friend, to see if she could sub. After stalling for almost ten minutes, I was convinced to go to the Quack Shack doctors that most worker's comp claims in this town use. We went to the one on Live Oak. Not far from work at all. It was 5:02pm. They had no doctor or even physician's assistant there. They sent us to at Mockingbird & 35. In rush hour traffic. I don't know you don't travel much by car in our Dallas, but that was not exactly a super speedy trip.

When we finally arrived at the Med Center area Quack Shack, and I went in. The girl behind the desk was on the phone. She held up her index finger, in that "hang on, I'm chatting" way. She motioned for another person to come out. Without even looking my way, she tossed a clipboard at me. "Here, fill these out and we'll call your na...are you bleeding?"

Yes, yes I am.

Suddenly, they whisked me into a back room. They gave me an ice pack. The P.A. came in. "Yep, stitches."

"Are you sure?", I pleaded.

"Yep, stitches.", she said again.



pre-stitches:



update! after a night of tossing and turning on the couch:



Thank you, I'll be here all weekend.