Happy Hellidays!!!

First I'm gonna start off with a review of the movie I saw last night: Black Christmas. Although another slasher film, it wasn't all that bad. A tad confusing at times with the whole inbreeding thing and who is related to who, killerwise, and few too many flashbacks, but the overall gory festiveness (is that even a word?) made it enjoyable.
"The Vicodin helped too..."
Hey, don't jump ahead in the story here!
So I'm giving it a B-. Like I said, the flick had its good and bad points. I figured since it took place in a sorority house, that there would be beaucoup tits and ass, but it really wasn't all that bad. Nowhere near as naughty as Hostel, I had to send my kids out on that one. Just a few hottie nipples here and there, and an ass crack or two. I can live with that...
"Which brings us to the holidays..."
Christmas was ok, except I was starting to feel a little icky. I was supposed to be off the Friday after, but someone pulled some bullshit at another plant and I ended up having to work an hour and a half away. So I spent eight hours on the road that day.
Hey buddeh, the math don't add up here!
Well, I had to drive to Springfield, Missouri to pick up my daughter, round trip, which adds another five hours to the total. Thus the eight hours, my friends, and the whole story behind that is stressful and depressing as well, but hopefully taken care of. We will have to see on that one.
So we move on to New Year's Eve...
By this time I'm deathly ill, and have no idea what the hell is wrong with me. My chest and lungs hurt, my joints ache, my throat hurts and swells up, diarrhea, vomiting, dizziness, head and serious sinus pressure, ear infection...
"And a general feeling of death warmed over!"
So after I watch the Chiefs win their game and miraculously make it into the playoffs (a story for another day and post), I am taken to the hospital Emergency Room. Everybody must have been pissed they had to work that night because they took it out on poor old Graveh. The admissions lady kept telling me to put this stupid facemask on, but everytime I did, I would be violently wracked with coughs that made me vomit or spit up, yet she kept on and on.
Evil heartless bitch!
So I sit waiting while my wife takes care of insurance stuff at yet another window, as I sit puking/coughing my lungs up. My wife told me later that this lady told her I was making myself sick on purpose, for some ungodly reason. Looking back, I guess they thought I was faking it to get some drugs or something, as by this time I hadn't shaved or showered in awhile and was looking pretty unkempt. So I finally get in, and they are still being pretty shitty with me. The guy comes in and viciously swabs my throat with a large Q-tip. Then he pulls out another one, this time even longer and with a flexible shaft. I knew what was coming...
"You're not gonna put that down my nostril, are you?!?!?!"
Why yes, how did you know?
So the first two times he tries to jam that thing down in there I rip it out. He's not happy at all, and pulls out a third. I tell him to get it done quick, because I'm ready to grab his nads and rip those bastards off! He even had a grimace on his face as he's doing all this to me. About this time, all the New Year's drunks and accident victims start showing up. I'm now laying around suffering, unable to breathe, waiting for them to come back and give me some fucking relief. Chest x rays commence, eventually I'm given some sort of bogus breathing treatment that doesn't seem to help, then a chick comes in and takes most of my blood. I admit, she was the only nice one in there to me, bless her heart. They come back and tell me that not only do I have a nice little case of bronchitis, but that I'm also sporting some serious strep throat action as well. Does this soften them up any at all?
"Of course not!"
The guy gives me a prescription for an inhaler, some antibiotics, and a measely twenty Vicodins for my troubles. He also refuses to give me anything more than 2 days off of work...
What a dick!
Whatever happened to bedside manners, or whatever the hell it's called? Compassion, maybe even? I mean, Jeez dood, they found out I wasn't faking it. So I leave the ER and glare at the cunt (pardon my French) at admissions on my way out. Only one pharmacy is open on this night: Walgreens. They were shitty with me too, but I won't get into it here. So after dosing up, we go to my sister-in-law's house to hang for New Years but I just can't take any more. My wife is also showing the beginnings of sickness also, so we go home and hit the sack.
Great way to spend your holidays, deathly ill surrounded by a world of uncaring jerkoffs. So it is now Tuesday, and I'm feeling somewhat better today. I woke up and coughed up a bunch of black stuff out of my lungs. So the drugs seem to be working, especially the Vicodin. My wife is now deathly ill, and although she is fighting it, I think she will need to see a doctor too. She probably just doesn't want to go through the nostril/Q-tip torture like I had to. But she looks like shit now, and sounds like it too. I'm also going to try to get another day off of work, but I don't expect any sympathy there either, but it's worth a shot.
So that is how I've spent my time as of late. I hope you guys (whoever you may be!) had a better holiday than I did.
"Time for bed again, methinks..."
Meds kicking in now, and I'm all woozy again.
Please don't make me have to work tomorrow, please don't make me have to work tomorrow, please don't make me have to work tomorrow...
Have mercy on poor old GRAVEH!
Would ya...?