Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Gorgeous, isn't it? Just so you know, I don't normally have cankles. That's how swollen this puppy is. My toes look like those little sausages you get in a can, that aren't really sausages, and you only eat when you have a nostalgic moment. Or at least that's when I eat them. Just don't read the ingredients. Lips and assholes...
I went in for my follow-up appointment, for my ankle, which is roughly the size and shape of a zeppelin. I had to wait over an hour before anyone saw me. Assholes.
The doctor rolls in, examines my foot, does a couple hmphs, and gives his ruling. Because he's a workman's comp doctor, you don't get opinions and suggestions, you get rulings that's based on how fast they can get you back to work. There are some people in the world that make a living off of getting injured on the job. They must be masochists or something. I think the best reason to avoid getting hurt on the job would be to avoid the Occupational Health office.
Anyway, no pushing or pulling or patient transfers, or anything involving an object more than 15lbs. I work on a floor where having a patient that tips the scales at 500lbs is old hat. There isn't too much on my floor that weighs less than 15lbs, and that's including the bullshit that Bosshole spreads around on occasion.
The doctor said I could return to work with these restrictions. I called Bosshole to let him know of the latest and greatest, and he had no idea I was even injured in the first place.
You know, someday, my eyes are going to stick to the back of my head because of all the eye rolling I do.
Anyway, after relaying the restrictions, he couldn't understand what the big deal was and why I needed such stringent restrictions. I mean, I still had one good foot to work on, right?? Right!?!?!
This should end well.