It's 1pm on Friday. I've got a full belly (thanks to Barberito's), 3 patients to go, and nothing but the weekend on my mind. We listen to a really awful radio station at work from time to time, and Friday afternoon happened to be my lucky day. Here are the songs that really stuck out during each hour of treatment:
Patient #1 is an enormous lady, and her "rotary cup is dang near torn to all get out." Sounds pretty bad lady. Not as bad as this jam:
Shut up, Travie. Right now, I just want you to stop it "soo fucking baaadddd."
Here comes patient #2, and she is turrible. Everything hurts. Everything will continue to hurt as long as Workers Comp is flippin the bill that is. Hey ohhh. Can the afternoon get any worse? Yes it can and did...
It's that damn radio again. Enter in complete misery. I hear some girl in the background say, "She performed this on The Today Show, and I thought it would be much better than it was." It had me fooled too. Somehow I fight through the pain and the desire to mash the radio in.
By 3 o'clock, I'm certain that I've blacked out to make it thus far. I have a chicken burrito sitting in my stomach that wants out, and someone asking me to take a look at a blister that's been bothering them on their foot. But wait, there's hope! Thanks, Miley!
She told me come off that ledge and put my hands up. It's gonna be a great weekend.
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