A friend of mine talked me into playing in a “don’t worry, it’s not competitive” softball game this last weekend, which left me with a wicked headache and even more wicked greyish/blue bump on my forehead (no, I was not hit by the ball, I may have…errr, ran into someone else’s head or something….). When I got to work I was given several observations and directives on how to care for myself:
“You look like you are about to sprout a horn, just like a unicorn! Cool!”
“Make sure you don’t sleep for the next 48 hours.”
(about 36 hours AFTER it had already happen and roughly 12 hours of sleep later)
Mr. F: Miss R, if somebody hurt you, you can tell me and I will, you know, take care of them.
Me: Nobody hit me Mr. F, I got hurt playing softball.
Mr. F: “Softball” (in air quotes)? That’s a new one. It’s okay, I have experience with this sort of thing, just give me his address.
“White people are so weird, they all love playing rugby.” (huh?)
“Why do you let people let you talk you into things when you know you are clumsy, Miss R? Maybe YOU need a case manager so you can learn how to advocate for yourself.”
“You seem confused today, I hope there wasn’t any brain damage.”
(a 100% serious concern)
and was fashioned by one of my residents, an ice-head wrap made out of a plastic baggy, the biggest cubes of ice I have ever seen and the sweater off my back, whom stated he would not meet with me unless I wore it the whole time, as he was also concerned I had brain damage.
(which mind you, left me cold and with a brain freeze)