18 September 2007

Farewell, cruel world

Tomorrow I will leave my flat at 7.30 am, smack in the middle of an insomnia bout, to drive with a colleague to the Husbandry Station an hour away where we will spend the day, and the night, and the bloody morning, bonding with cows. Five hundred of them, I think. That's loads of cows and that's also far too much time to spend among them and why oh why must the school not be bothered by the fact that I do not care for farm animals at all? The teacher also told us that we were going to milk them.

Let's rewind: when I was on the kibbutz a cow broke my right wrist while milking. It wasn't a difficult cow at that, the kick came absolutely out of nowhere and my wrist was caught between the hoof and one of the metal bars and I knew it had to be broken bcs I felt immediately nauseated. That night my wrist was all swollen and bruised and I even spiked a fever. Thanks to a volunteer leader who hated every girl volunteer who didn't look like a total dog bcs of her roving-eye younger boyfriend, and none of us sadly did then, and a rather deficient x-ray technician the fracture went undiagnosed and un-casted for 2 months.

*Positively Mortifying Tangent:

Remember how that stupid woman drove into my boot and broke a smidge of my cervical vertebrae 15 years ago? I spent an unusual amount of time in ER's and doctors' offices after that and had to have a lot of x-rays done, to the extent that it became second nature to fully strip from the waist up the moment I walked in.


Oh yes, YES I DID.

I walked into the inner sanctum and promptly shed my t-shirt and bra and positioned myself for my neck x-ray. The - of course - male technician looked at the file, looked at my boobs, looked at the file, looked at my boobs, and asked me why I was there and I answered
A cow kicked my wrist and I think it might be broken and he looked at me and my boobs - us, in short - and FINALLY it dawned on me that my wrist isn't anywhere that requires a topless session and no, God didn't see fit to send a lightning bolt that one time either and the only good thing was, the poor bloke looked even more embarrassed than me but he was so thrown by the whole thing that my x-ray was all blurry, and it absolutely was a technical error bcs I bloody know not to move even if I have a bit of trouble keeping my clothes on while doing it.

/End of Positively Mortifying Tangent

During those two months I was forced to keep milking, which I learnt to do with one hand only [that is quite an accomplishement, for those of you not savvy in cow ways]. After I finally told her it was either the doctor or the embassy and a scandal I was finally sent to an orthopaedist who said
If it still bothers you after 2 months it's broken and finally he got the insurance company to agree for me to have some nice plutonium injected into my veins so we could know for sure and long story short by he time I got a cast and some needed rest [and what did the stupid cow say, upon seeing my arm in a cast? Oh, it really was broken, you weren't faking! How I dearly wish I had taken the cast to her upper teeth.] it was too late, the damage was done, and whenever the weather changes or I use my hand too much (and I am right-handed) my synovial cyst pops out and the whole thing becomes inflammed and I need to bind my wrist with one of those kickboxing protection strips to keep it immobilised.

So after class was over I approached the Professor and explained what had happened and said I really didn't fancy placing my wrist in the vicinity of a cow hoof ever again, and he said
Oh no worries, this is mechanical milking and I lifted my coincidentally bound wrist and said Yes, so was this and he said all right, I didn't have to if it really bothered me. I'm all for my colleagues learning how to milk a cow and express milk without giving the cow mastitis and yey, teats, but no, not for me, never again, been there, done that, got the callouses to prove it, teats all yours now.

To say I am not pleased is a misrepresentation of the truth - but it might even be fun. Please let it be fun! Or at least bloggeable, as long as it doesn't involve any more injured bits of my anatomy.

As for the insomnia, well, I am a bit pissy but see, this is good insomnia, GOOD INSOMNIA, I am happy! You lot, I AM HAPPY! Clappy-clappy snoopy-dance happy! I don't even care if I'm underslept, I'm sitting here typing and swaying my hips to Michael Jackson and Olundum's
They Don't Care About Us, that's how happy I am!

Everyone misbehave while I'm away, I very much look forward to coming back Thursday afternoon and reading the comments but oh my God, the blog withdrawal is horrendous and I haven't even left yet!

6 furballs:

Lord Chimmy said...

and I answered A cow kicked my wrist and I think it might be broken and he looked at me and my boobs - us, in short...

haha. I laughed out loud.

Hope you have a better experience with the cows this time.

Moose said...

I accidentally flashed a former coworker the other day. The moral is: When you invite people over for dinner, make sure you close the curtains before you change your clothes.

Errant boobs, unite!

CarpeDM said...

Oh dear. Mortifying, yes. Hi-larious, yes.

[and what did the stupid cow say, upon seeing my arm in a cast? Oh, it really was broken, you weren't faking! How I dearly wish I had taken the cast to her upper teeth.]

I actually thought for a second you were talking about the cow that broke your wrist, not the horrible woman.

Diana said...

Looking forward to the lovely bovine tales, for with 500 of them and you in the same place, there are bound to be tales.

treppenwitz said...

Look on the bright side... despite his red cheeks, you probably made the x-ray technician's day (week/month/year...). :-)

Lioness said...

Chimmy, yes, I imagine it wasn't traumatising unless you were there. I did, I did!

Moose, how excellent! Did you really? I could be you! We could take turns being daft and take breaks for food and such.

Dana,I did go find the cow - actual animal - bfr I left the kibbutz and symbolically punched her muzzle. She's been eaten npw, I'm here albeit sore. I reckon I win?

Diana, I know! Isn't it scary?

Treppy, that is NOT a bright side at all. The bright side is, I don't remember his face, should I see him again I won't even be bothered by it!