6 May 2011: Blood tests for bruises

As most of you who know me know, I am quite infamous for my UPI’s (unidentified party injuries), the past year’s most legendary of same having the unfortunate luck of being on my lower left leg and having the fortunate luck of a scrumptiously sexy story behind it…

The story, like the damned bruise, has in time turned quite dark, but neither have quite faded. It’s no-one’s fault really (read: it’s mine) and it doesn’t matter anymore (read: I have bigger fish to fry right now), however, the bruise has now become a bigger issue than the boy.

A while back I went to My Dear Doctor with a case of the sniffles and while I was there, I told him that it is the strangest thing, but I bruise quite easily and then these unsightly blobs of blue that come out of nowhere take forever to disappear. I, for example, walked into The Best Friend’s coffee table more than 3 months ago and the bruise is STILL there. Not to mention the very un-sexy bruise from all the abovementioned sexiness that has been there since about August last year…. I thought My Dear Doctor will laugh it off with a “do more exercise, it is your circulation” speech. Toe nie…. He gave my legs one look and said aikona poppie, rattled off about a million tests he thinks we need to run and before I knew it, my joke wasn’t all that funny anymore.

So, off I went to My Dear Doctor this morning and he drained me of about twenty buckets of blood which has been sent to every corner of this world so that the wise and the brave can provide us with the answer to the exact same question my parents have been asking since 1985: WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS GIRL!?!?

I’m sure it will just be a negligible lack of some nutrient, but the most epic moment of this whole saga comes down to one sentence riiight at the end of the consultation. My Dear Doctor struggles to find a vein to pop (as mine are the Hide and Seek State Champions), but after doing so, draining me and removing said spike from my arm, he dabs it with that pathetic little cotton ball, looks me dead in the eye and says to me in a very serious tone:

“Now hold this here for about a minute and then put this plaster on, but I remind you that you may possible have some bruising on your arm tomorrow.” 

Ehhh… Come again Doc? I may POSSIBLY have some bruising TOMORROW? Fek me, I like those odds, because if you had asked me, seeing as I was there BECAUSE of my epic bruising capabilities, I would have put my cock on a block (had I had one) that I will most DEFINITELY have a bruise TODAY. A big one. With it’s own zip code. Or at least a name.

True’s Bob, it’s gaining momentum too. By tomorrow I will most CERTAINLY have a bruise on my arm the size of another Lesotho in South Africa. And it will run against me to be president of this new found land. And IT WILL WIN. So this is really just a friendly reminder to bring your passport along if you fine folks want to visit me for the next couple of weeks, you hear.

Test results will be out on Friday the 13th.

I did NOT think this through… :(

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