Bruiser

Is it wrong that I just spent several minutes trying to implant a series of bad Seventies pop tunes into Wheat's brain just before he heads off for a meeting?

I don't think it is.

He needs to get used to having me back in the office somehow.

----------

I made a tally of my current bruises as I was getting dressed this morning. Highlights include the shoulder thing I told you of a couple of posts ago, the deep one that's finally made its appearance (I whacked myself in the leg with the ice scraper a couple of days ago. No, not on purpose), a couple of minor spots on my arms that I'm pretty sure I know the reason for, and a half dozen others in various places that I have no idea about.

Read this either as I'm a walking accident or I tend to bruise easily.

Both have their moments of being true, but it's usually more the second than the first.

No, really.

No sniggering from the Toronto office. You've been warned.

I've always been a bit of a bruiser, and it doesn't help matters that I have fairly light-toned skin. Every little bruise shows up like a neon advertisement when you have skin like that, and it doesn't take much of a bump to give me even a little bruise.

I guess I'm a tad leaky.

A few years ago I went through a slight medical misadventure (don't worry, I'm not going to tell that story again) which required IVs on different days and a few blood tests. For part of that time I was at a smaller hospital where the x-ray technician doubled as a phlebotomist when needed. When I first came to that particular hospital, she was the one to draw my blood. She noticed I had a pretty nasty bruise from the last hospital's blood test, made a little joke about untidy vampires, and used my other arm instead. It took a couple of tries because one vein decided to tap out (what can I say? I'd had a really fun week), but overall things went ok.

Fast forward a few days and find me sitting in a hopsital gown and socks (my feet were cold), waiting to have some x-rays taken. The tech was the same one who'd done the blood test earlier, and when she got a look at my arms the poor girl was absolutely horrified to see the massive bruises that had developed. She was all over herself apologising even though I tried to explain that they didn't hurt and that I was just a natural bruiser.

I have to admit I was pretty colourful at the time, though. Bruises from blood tests, bruises on my hands from the IVs... I probably looked a little scary.

Hell, I probably look a little scary now, but I can't help genetics.




And shut up, world.

Anyway. None of this blather has any point to it (see: blog title) and I really should get back to work.

Work, yes. There will be actual work happening today.

No, really.




Didn't I already tell you to shut up?