Tissues & Issues

Whew. I got a lotta crap to get through today. So where do I start? Friday night we all settled down to watch The Recruit on DVD, basically because we couldn't be bothered going to rent anything decent and this was the only film we could sponge off a friend at short notice. We were all pretty tired and getting a little bored of the film, waiting for it to end about an hour and twenty in. I'd swapped places with the Boyf, who'd been sitting at my feet (in his designated area :P), because we'd moved most of the furniture out of there except for two armchairs while we decorate. So we're watching Colin Farrell run along a railway track, kill some dude and then recognise him from their training program, when all I hear is the sound of breaking glass and what I think is a torrent of gunfire. We're not in the movie anymore, the scene is my lounge, Colin Farrell is nowhere to be had and I'm pretty sure I can't blame Al Pacino. The first thing I do is scream my head off, scramble across the floor through our wine glasses and hide behind the armchair, because we all know that cheap upholstery is bulletproof right? The first thing Boyf does, I learn later, is spring out of his chair and go stick his head out of the jagged hole in our door. It wasn't gunshots at all, but two old house bricks, one through the living room window and one through the door. One brick, though I can't remember feeling it, hit my leg and I am now sporting a big lump and multicoloured bruising on my left thigh. The noise of the bricks and shattering glass was unbelievable in the echoey room, it seemed like it lasted a long time. Boyf was shouting and asking if I was okay, I said yes, then noticed the pool of blood. I looked at my hands and the palms were red, but I didn't feel any pain. Where is this blood coming from? I said, is everyone else okay? Boyf shouted for someone to call an ambulance and I waited for the pain to kick in, hoping it wasn't something serious; I literally did this, just sat and waited rather than checking, kind of stupid huh? Luckily Boyf was there and he found a deep slice in my hand and ran to get some kitchen towel to stop the blood, then lifted me off the floor and carried me into the kitchen, which was when I noticed that a brick had come through the front door too. Phonecalls were being hurriedly made while this was happening, and some of my family and my neighbour turned up while we were waiting for the paramedic. I hugged my sister. I was very calm although I was shaking. Boyf was trembling too and I told him to calm down and get my trainers. He could only find the boots. Yes people, I went to hospital in a pair of blood spattered pink pyjamas, a black coat I've had for six years, cow print slippers, and freshly blow-dried hair - which could have been my only saving grace - scragged back in a hair clamp. For shame.

It's taking me ages to type this since it's my right hand that's injured and that's the hand I can type with. Bloody typical!

The paramedic and the first nurse I saw were really nice and we had some humourous banter, none of which I remember. When we got to the hospital Boyf realised that his socks and shoes were full of broken glass, so he emptied them out on the floor. He also complained that even though his hands were covered in my blood too, the paramedic never asked him if he was okay.

Nurse: Well are you hurt?
Boyf: Well... no.
Nurse: *rolling his eyes* Well shut up then, God! Not getting any attention?

I walked through to the waiting room feeling an absolute state and there were three girls sitting there in their PJs. One of them went "Aren't those boots gorgeous!" It was pretty empty when we got there; it must've been about half twelve. Some drunk bloke came in and hassled us a bit, then we finally got called through. Someone took my blood pressure and my temperature, then we waited some more. Then I got sent for X-rays of my hand to make sure there was no glass still in there. I really enjoyed wandering around all these different departments of the hospital in my nightwear, but I eventually got stuck in a corner and forgotten about when all the drunks started arriving. We sat there while everyone else got cups of tea and blankets, came, were seen to, and went. Do doctors not like doing stitches or something? At about 7 am, after Boyf had been and jumped up and down a few times, they reluctantly found a doctor to stitch me up, and I warned her I was prone to fainting around needles. After being jabbed maybe 20 times by said needles, I had three very Frankenstein-esque stitches in my hand. Boyf had to sit down half way through cos he nearly fainted :P Then a nurse came, bandaged my hand and gave me a tetanus shot, which wasn't too bad until the next day. It still hurts!

Saturday everyone was really busy fixing the broken windows and putting lights and CCTV cameras on the front of our house, which is very fucking weird I must say. I think we may have set ours up to be a bit oversensitive too; if anyone actually sets foot in our street they get a big spotlight in their faces :P Maybe we should get big megaphones and shout things at them in an alien language so they think they're being abducted?

The annoying thing is I had that very night decided on the perfect outfit to wear to the Xmas do, managed to wangle a ticket for Boyf (which I paid for) and then I couldn't go! And the culprits? The Grinch clan. And I bet you think you've got it bad with your in-laws!