Too Much Trauma for a Tuesday

But how could Election Day, a teacher workday no less, be traumatic, you ask?  Well, it goes a little something like this...

 My morning started out great.  I was looking forward to most of a workday at school without kids, getting caught up on some paperwork and planning.  But first, it was off to the elementary school to do my civic duty as a responsible citizen and cast my vote for the best candidate lesser of two evils.  I made an easy choice at the touch-screen, picked up my purse and turned to head out to the car for the short drive down the hill, and promptly FELL.  Down.  On the floor, in front of the whole world.  Okay, it was about twenty five people, and I didn't really know any of them, but still.  

And I didn't just fall down quickly and get it over with.  Nope, I don't do things the easy way, ever. Instead, I tried to stop myself and ended up making it much, much worse.  I'm pretty sure it actually happened in slow motion, in a Keanu-Reeves-in-The-Matrix kind of way.  It felt like it took two whole minutes for me to hit the floor, instead of two seconds, as I windmilled my arms around grabbing for something, anything, as I continued to move towards the floor.  Then my knees hit the shiny wooden floor like Kevin Bacon at the end of Footloose...and yes, I did slide that far.  But at some point, my leggings tore, exposing a silver dollar sized spot of knee skin and causing just enough friction to throw me forward onto my hands.  Yep, downward facing dog, in the middle of the polls.

I'm thinking at this point that gasps of horror, or laughter, or anything would have been better than the dead silence that followed.  All activity screeched to a halt, and I'm thinking that if someone wanted to dispute the results tonight, they could claim a polling irregularity.  I'd give it to them.  I picked myself up, painfully, I might add--because of a pre-existing hip ailment.  A very nice lady gave me my "I Voted" sticker and asked me about 43 times if I was okay, and I hobbled out of the building with my bruised pride and my sticker.  It was only then that I realized that I had torn my leggings AND my leg and tried to laugh off the horror of the whole event.  The only saving grace is that He Who Teases Me Mercilessly, also known as one of our BFF's, arrived a half a second after the incident and missed a prime piece of ammunition.

The trauma continued later in the day as I went for a corticosteroid shot in my hip, hopefully to alleviate ongoing pain, no doubt exacerbated by my throwing myself across a wooden floor.  The timing amazes me.  What I thought would be a simple trip to the radiology department and little discomfort turned out to be...mortifying.

Some suggestions for the Radiology Department:
1.  Hide the Star Trek transporter behind a screen or something.  It's a little disconcerting to walk into a room to be greeted with something that looks like a really scary amusement park ride.

2.  If I'm going to need to remove clothing, make me take it all off, and then give me a gown and a sheet.  Letting me lie down fully clothed then pulling my pants down feels too much like high school. At least give a beer and play Aerosmith!

3.  Consider telling people exactly WHERE the injection will be given.  Fit it in somewhere between "Are you taking any blood thinners?" and "Make sure you have a ride home."  Because really, had I known that it would involve...intimate regions...I might have reconsidered.

4.  Give Dr. McSteamy and Nurse McDreamy surgical masks.  Better yet, just hire ugly doctors.

5.  Warn the patients when you're going to move the table that glides silently sideways, then up towards the ceiling.  Even better, give me a seat belt next time, because, whoa!

6.  Cover the window into the adjoining room where you're having your little reunion and social time, because HEY!!! I'm lying here bareassed, in the air, staring at the ceiling tiles, and I can see you, so I know you can all see ME.

7.  Don't talk to me about my job while you're shoving a needle against my bones.  There's enough pain involved with either of those that they don't need to be combined.

8.  Don't make me lie to you about why I want to take a picture of my x-ray.  Yes, my kid is interested in stuff like that, but I really wanted it so I could Instagram it.  I can't be the only one!  Can I?

9.  Give me a sticker or a lollipop when I'm finished.  The voting lady did!

Two bright spots at the end of the day?  Donuts and gold glitter nail polish.  I earned them, dammit.