Conversations from the sickbed

I know it was bad, and I'm supposed to be resting at home. But come on, home confinement for three days straight? Cats need to roam! And a Slinky Cat needs her book fix. So I confess, I wobbled my way down to the library, bundled up like I was waging an Arctic expedition, gleefully descended on the stacks, then wobbled my way back home before my dad caught me.

I'm paying for it though. Now even my TEETH feel hot.
______________________________________________________________________

The Boy has left for reservist in a hot dry place with plenty of large jumping rodents. I am most displeased with the military for removing my main source of company, food and most importantly, cuddles, when I'm burning up like a Roman Candle.

Slinky: "Baby, if I die while you're there will you be sad?"
(I know, why the fuck do women ask these question?)
The Boy: (obviously well-versed in the cause-and-effect of relationships) "YES!"
Slinky: "Cool."

[Pause]

Slinky: "Will you fly back for my funeral?"
The Boy: (obviously not so well-versed in the answer to this question): "Yes, if you leave me something in your will."
Slinky: "WHAT?"
The Boy: "Yeah. Some token. A book."

Fine, you get every single Terry Pratchett I own in the event of my death. *mutters* mercenary bastard. I was going to have them burned with me in my Viking funeral.

_______________________________________________________________________

Slinky's dad, taking blood from Slinky's right arm: "You know once they took 60 cc of my blood for a full spectrum scan? That's more than a catheter bag."
Slinky: "Urgh."
Slinky's dad: "Yep. They put the cannula in this vein, and then they had this big vacuum tube to SUCK out the blood, right into the bag."
Slinky: "AAArgh."
Slinky's dad: "They PUSH in the tube, then 'POK!'" *wiggles needle in Slinky's vein for emphasis*
Slinky: "AAAARRRRRGGHHH!"

The thing about being a doctor's child that no one else except another doctor's child seems to realize is this: having a doctor in the family is great, but they are completely oblivious to the fact that you might actually feel pain. They are angels of mercy with their patients, often kind and deeply patient, but when it comes to family members, you are more often with a "Tch! Why did you do that to yourself?" when you present them tremblingly with a broken arm.

One of Raj's favourite example is the time she went to her father (also a doctor) and said "I've got a fever." He said, "What do you want me to do about it?"

When I fucked up my ankle my dad picked it up and yanked on it a bit and I HOWLED and he said "Does that hurt?"

He proceeded to twist and prod it a little bit more, ignoring the "OWWWWW!"s and tears of pain that ran down my face, all the while making little professorial "hm" noises. Then he told me "It will heal in a week" (everything, accordng to my dad, will heal in a week when his daughters get hurt/injured/maimed. It took me two months)

Now because my platelet count has dropped we have to take blood EVERY DAY.

But you know what? It's STILL better than being at work.