in theory i was already doomed

Theory 1: cold kills cold

So I had a cold. And I put 5 ice cubes in my rum and coke. Drank only super chilled thums up in office. And ate frozen gelatos two days running.

And yesterday I woke up, barely able to breathe or speak.

Theory 2: If you rest through the day, you’ll be able to party at night.

So I thought why bother going in to work, considering we were all meeting up and feasting at night. Let me dose on the antibiotics, and I’ll be fine by evening.

Theory 3: Goofing around never killed anyone.

Then I thought, “ gosh, let me watch some entourage, now that I’m full up on antibiotics. But before that let me bug the dog.”

So, get this, I stick my face right next to my mild mannered dog, who by the way is fast asleep and probably dreaming of some hot bitch, and suddenly yell, “ Miloooooooo” right into his ear.

Theory 4: Ha. Ha. Who’s scared of some blood?

It’s fucking sprouting like a fountain. Red, dark red and like thick fat drops falling all around me. And I’m like a zombie, running from one end of the house to the other. Suddenly I can’t remember how to work the phone or turn on the tap. Should I put ice, should I stick my nose under the tap, should I climb into the freezer?

Theory 5: Be nice to the patient.

I’m the subject of many amused looks and yells. Bed 6, dog bite on nose! A can’t stop laughing, z insists they’re going to graft the skin off my bum on to my nose. This is not looking good at all.

Theory 6: When you’re stressed you can’t sleep.

IV’s, rabies injections, doctor visits, test injections. I nod off. Hospital beds are most comfortable. And with the nice blanket, I feel like I’m in a hotel room.

Theory 7: Doctors don’t have a sense of humour.

Finally I’m in the OT. Waiting for them to numb me, and start stitching my nose up. The young doctor assistant who’s been acting very cool and staring down my chest while they strap the ECG thing is chatting on his phone as he cleans my gaping wound. The plastic surgeon arrives and asks me to open my eyes.

The assistant has got solution in my eyes, I try opening them, blinking frantically. And suddenly I see the surgeon’s hand reach out and slap the assistant hard.

I almost faint, the doctors are hitting each other. Dude, get me out of here.

Anyway assistant sort of whimpers and shuts his cell. The doctor boss has words with him. And then I’m all stitched up.

So finally there is only one theory that the world rests on. Everything else is shit.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

picture@treehugger.com