FUCK!!!

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So they sent me home, cause everything was cool, and I'm not home two whole days when I start to see another of these fucking blisters that's gonna pop.

This means I'm probably going to have to go back to the hospital tomorrow.

This means I'm goddamn pissed.

Know what bugs me the most? The spot that developed the blister is a spot I complained about to the doctors THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME I WAS FUCKING IN THERE!!!

FUCK!!!

Fuck 'em. I'm not going. I have the meds here. Not much more they can do there. Just means I'll have an extra wound to pack is all. I'm not going back the fuck up there, three hour fucking drive, for something I fucking TOLD THEM ABOUT BEFORE I FUCKING LEFT!!!

Why ask me if anything is bothering me if you're going to ignore my fucking answer?

And the CAT scan? The one that I had to drink radioactive shit for? Yeah, it said there was nothing wrong. I guess it meant everything but THIS.

Awright, it is a teensy bit my fault. They said "Looks like we may be able to send you home today." And I said "Sweet!" Cause I had a copy of Halo 3 waiting for me at home. I should have fucking questioned it and stayed another day or two.

There is the possibility that the medication will kill enough of the infection overnight that the blister doesn't rupture.

There's also the possibility that my shit will turn purple and smell like rainbow sherbert.

Guess we'll see tomorrow.

Ok, so Friday evening I'm sitting around watching TV with the guys and I find a small bump in the middle of my scar.

I figure "Great, I tore open a couple stitches and have already started on a new hernia."

I make plans to go to call my surgeon in the morning.

I end up staying up all night because I felt like shit and decided to have my Mom give me a lift to the Emergency Room. So I'm just sitting in the living room, watching TV, feeling like crap. Mom comes in and says "What's bleeding?"

Bleeding? I wasn't bleeding.

I look at my shirt.

There's a spot of blood.

Oh, FUCK.

Well I pull up my shirt and my hernia binder is soaked clear through. Open the binder and there's blood freely running out of a nice quarter-sized hole where, previously, had been my little bump.

I found this a tad vexing.

So we go to the local hospital that didn't kill me. They gave me some shit at the front counter. Went kinda like this:

"What's the reason for your visit?" (The blood spot is quite visibly getting larger through my shirt at this point.)

"I'm BLEEDING."

"Ok, fill out this form."

The form simply consisted of my name, asked about any drug allergies, and again asked why I was there.

I was starting to wonder myself.

I fill it out and hand it to her.

REASON FOR VISIT: Profuse bleeding from abdomen.

SYMPTOMS: BLOOD!

They eventually take me back. In all fairness, it WAS the fastest I've ever gotten into an Emergency Room.

I think I only lost a pint.

Well they check me over, the bleeding stopped, and they send me to Morgantown.

They DID have the nerve to ask me if I'd ever been diagnosed as anemic before. I told them I wasn't fucking anemic till they made me bleed out in the fucking waiting room.

So I spent the last couple days in Morgantown. They pumped me full of antibiotics, made me drink radioactive dye, got a CAT scan (where they gave me MORE radioactive dye) and then they decided that they gave me the wrong antibiotics because I have that crap you catch at the hospital that's immune to all forms of penicillin.

So now I'm on the right drugs and I'm back home. How was your week?

The day has come.

Tonight at Midnight Halo 3 will be released.

The fight will be finished, noobs will be pwned, asses will be rocked.

Soon as I set up my live account I'll give you losers my gamertag. For now I gotta go watch some of the G4 coverage of the release.