Snark sick day

Snark woke up this morning with his back blown out. He told me at 6am that I would have to take him to the doctor. For Snark to call in sick to work, that meant he probably could not walk.

He would walk clutching the wall periodically when he had a spasm. So I put the girls on the bus and drove him to his doctor's.

The office is open at 8 am but they don't answer the phone till 9 am. Figure that one out? I walk in and ask if they have anything available since he is in pain.

"Uh, no I think the doctor is out somewhere." Dumb answers.

"Yeah, I can't fit him in." Dumber replies.

"Well, where is she? Is she not working today?" I grit my teeth as they stare at each other.

"You can take him to the Urgent Care." I forget which idiot volunteered that one.

From the back of the room a voice pipes up.

"Well how long do I have to wait for the doctor if she's not here?"

I didn't bother to wait for the brilliant reply and took Snark to Urgent Care.

Now Snark is very touchy about his social security number being given out. So everytime he is asked he refuses and annoys me in the process because he argues with the receptionist. He had me talking for him today, though. I seated him around the corner and filled out paperwork.

Receptionist: "You need to fill out his social."

Distant Snark: "Why?"

Me: "Why?"

Receptionist: "My system does not allow me to go any further without it."

Snark: "It is illegal to ask for that."

Me: "It is illegal to ask for that."

Receptionist: "Well, we can't see him."

Snark: "It's against the Patriot Act."

Me:"Here it is, just don't tell him I gave it to you."

Snark: "Give her a fake one."

The doctor came in to check him out and wanted to know what the problem was. Any woman would have said "Lower back pain and spasms." Snark starts off with his shoulder pain he had three months ago and then his knee hurt and when he was at work his upper back hurt a little and now his lower back hurts because he was weeding and walked around Disney and then lifted his nine year old last week. I was screaming internally. The doctor's eyes were glazing over and he was nodding.

"He has lower back pain and spasms." I spit out.

"Okay." the doc gets to work.

He was diagnosed with the medical term "Back Strain." This entitles him to muscle relaxers and extra strength Motrin and a free pass on crabbiness.

"Did you have to tell him your life story? I know you are verbose but that is crazy." He got the five minute lecture on being concise. What is ironic is this is a man who edits for a living.

He insisted on walking into the store with me and quite frankly I would have preferred he didn't. He had a very odd gait( between a hobble and a hop) and he kept clutching the wall everytime his back would spasm. I didn't want to run into anyone I knew in case they thought he might be drug addicted.

He gets home and has a sack of chips for lunch. I don't notice this since I am getting him pain meds and a drink. He then takes one tablet of Flexeril( a muscle relaxant) when he should have only taken a half. He poo-poos that half tablet notion since he says he is too big for that dosage. Well the bigger they are the harder they fall. Which is precisely what he did.

He took a nap and decided to get up on his own. The short story is he clutched the wall and then blacked out. His first vision was me talking in his face and waving my hands asking him my name. He says yelling, I say talking loudly. I called 911. They put me on hold. I then call from my cell and they actually take the call. Snark is fine but right now I have given him medicine, walked him around the house and lectured some more on eating food and taking lowest dosage prescribed. I then went to my fridge poured myself the Big Gulp of wine. And no I am not taking the lowest dose.