I think it’s safe to say I have the worst freaking luck in the world. Or maybe it’s not luck but just my general lack of awareness. I guess it doesn’t really matter because I’m laid up in bed regardless, broken leg propped up and on display like an offering to the Gods. I’m casted all the way to mid-thigh and it doesn’t take a genius to know I’m going to be freaking miserable for the next six weeks.
Here’s the breakdown (pun intended): I’m a vet technician and I absolutely love my job. Short of diagnosing illnesses, performing surgery solo and prescribing medications, there’s nothing I don’t do around the office. Those animals are my children and I spend six days a week making them feel loved and cared for. It’s an incredibly active job and I hit the gym daily to make sure I’m fit as a fiddle for my fur-babies.
So it’s just my damn bad luck that I was running one of my patients out to use the potty when, of course, a stray cat (black none-the-less) crossed over to us, my patient got all excited, wound his leash around my leg and took me down for the count at exactly 12:37 yesterday afternoon.
I’ve been bitten, scratched, run hard and put away wet, all with a smile on my face.
I’m not smiling now. I’m glowering at my cast like it’s the anti-Christ.
“Oh, for the love of God, it’s not the end of the world,” my mom exclaims as she walks into my bedroom and hands me a glass of water and two Vicodin.
I shift my glower to her, “Yes it is! I can’t work for six weeks, mom…that’s a freaking lifetime for me.”
“Most people would appreciate a little time off, don’t you think?” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“I’m not most people,” I growl, “I love you job. And I can’t stand that I can’t fucking work out!”
“Language!” She barks, which is ironic because for every swear word I know, she knows three.
I huff and cross my arms over my chest like a peevish teenager.
“It’s time to take your next dose of meds, Kitty.” She’s been on my ass since yesterday that I take my pain meds at exactly the prescribed time intervals.
“I don’t want to,” I whine, “They make me sick to my stomach.”
“That’s because you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday,” she reminds me.
“I’m not hungry.” I’m too pissed off to be hungry.
She rolls her eyes, “You’re acting like a child. Where’s the independent, sophisticated, smart young lady I thought I raised?”
“She’s out with a broken leg,” I snap.
Mom barks out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re just as stubborn as your father.”
“I think it’s a shared trait, mom.”
“Take the damn pills.”
She actually growls.
“Joe!” she hollers, “Would you please get in here and talk some sense into your daughter.”
I hear my dad stomp down my hallway, really laughing it up.
“That’s about as doable as me talking sense into you, Sarah.” Dad is all legs as he enters my room.
You’d never guess my parents were in their late 60’s based off their appearances. Even though my dad is bald and has wrinkles around his eyes, he’s a very handsome man who hasn’t let his body go to shit. Same with my mom; she’s a petit little thing and her shock of white hair is the only give-away to her age. Well, that, and the fact they both have glasses as thick as my pinkie finger.
I love my parents to death, but I’m not about to be a cooperative patient. I’m too grumpy to cooperate.
“Kitty, if you don’t take the pills your leg’s gonna start singing to you,” Dad says as he sits on the edge of my bed.
“That’s why I have whiskey in the kitchen…instant numbing utensil.”
They both roll their eyes at me.
“You’re going to put me into an early grave, girl,” Mom kisses me on the top of my head.
“No I won’t. With my luck I’ll probably beat you there.”
“Bite your tongue, Kitty! Jesus! No parent wants to hear their kid say that,” Dad admonishes.
I sigh heavily.
They both look at me expectantly.
I sigh again and recross my arms.
They stare at me as I continue my glower which I think, at this point, I’ve perfected.
“Fine!” I finally burst, “Give me the goddamn pills.”
My mother hands them to me with a small victory grin on her face. My dad stands and pats my leg, “Good girl.”
I gulp them down and nearly gag as one catches in my throat.
“Happy?” I cough out.
“Yes…now get some sleep. Your father and I are heading home for a little bit but we’ll be back later tonight to check on you.”
“Good. You can clean up the puke.”
They both roll their eyes. If I keep up this attitude their eyes may actually never stop rolling. I know I’m being a pain in the ass but I can’t bring myself to care.
They’re walking out my front door when I yell, “I love you guys!”
I hear the smile in their voices as they yell back, “We love you too.”