June 27, 2008

Never let a Cowboy provide your medical service.

At the risk of grossing you out, I have to disclose this: I have a zit in my ear. I think it is actually the byproduct of some unholy impending ear infection, but who knows. If it wasn't, it certainly will be now.
So, last night when I came home, Rowdy was busy lounging with boys. He NEVER gets to do that, so even though our home looked as though someone started a junk yard in the living room, I thought this was pretty cool.
The ear was kind of hurting, so asked Rowdy the Butcher to have a looksie. I have to say the pain was obviously clouding my judgement or I would've known what this asshole would have in store. But, in a desire to quench my aching ear, I foolishly listened to him.
He convinced me that I should let him take a safety pin and essentially pop this little sore. I was weary, but I allowed it. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and said, "Okay."
He poked around like a blind seamstress for a few minutes and then decided that the zit "just wasn't ready."
What? You jabbed my ear 10 times with a needle and now you think it wasn't ready. Almost instantly, I felt heat rising in my eardrum. There was a wetness and I'm almost certain it was blood.
As though I didn't already regret letting Rowdy the Quack perform this sadistic surgery, I woke up this morning with a throbbing, swollen, puss-riddled ear. My entire left jaw hurts. This was a poor, poor decision.
Undoubtedly, I should develop gangrene. By Wednesday, my ear should be being amputated.
Don't let a cowboy provide your medical care. That's all I'm gonna say.

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