So I was lying back in my en-f*cking-joyable HMCS Charlottetown room in heart of a big f*cking hospitial, when the doc shows up.
Doctor says, “You have one f*cked up intestine”.
I say, “Get it the f*ck out of me, mofo”.
I was on an operating table shaped like a cross – with my arms out (cause they was full of tubes and wires and sh*t). I outrock those wussy “I rock because I lost an infrequently used organ” sh*ts, because I didn’t get morphine until I woke up.
I now have a giant f*cking zipper-like wound, with not four, not five, but twenty-nine staples keeping my guts in. On top of that, two f*cking eight- centimetre giant stitches that keep the little sh*t staples together. They shoveled out three to four pounds of my misbehavin’ guts.
Unlike all you weak suckers out there, I have four feet less digestive tract. I have no large intestine. I rock harder.
Happy Valentine’s Day,
Robert
Note: Swearing has been carefully edited as Valentine’s Day is no time for swearing. There will be no exceptions, especially none for me.
I can’t immitate Matt’s style. I just can’t do it justice, so forgive the traces of lameness in that post. To understand, go read this.
AOV Organ-Race Update:
Matt has yet to have another organ removed like he promised earlier, leaving him second in the standings.
After upping his lousy “Appendix” with “Colon” his confidence in the race to have no more organs seems to have been shaken.
i rock hard too… sorta
So, I was walking around f*cking Washington DC, marvelling at all the f*cking cops on every corner, and waiting to get my f*cking award, I get the worst f*cking pain in my side ever.
But since i rock so f*cking hard, i walk all 5 blocks to my hotel room, and try to wait out the pain for about an hour.
Deciding at that point that i’m not so f*cking hard that i’m willing to let my stomach explode from my burst appendix, i call an ambulance, and get to go to a hospital. Side note: albulance was 7th busiest in the US according to the nice paramedics who, while i was moaning in pain, were joking about dropping me.
Once at the hospital, i realize the mistake of letting them taking me to a training hospital, as all 7 med students are entent on proding my f*cking pain filled side. After a good half hour of this, i finally get a f*cking line in my vain, and some sweet sweet morphine. After about 8 hours of them deciding if i had a kidney stone, apendicitis, or both – they finally decide i had a kidney stone, and that it had passed, and sent me home.
Now, I rock so hard, that i feel fine until 6am two days later, when i’m in Conneticut, and need to be rushed to the hospital again. Another round of proding and poking, and finally i get the f*cking morphine drip.
So, i may not have had a organ removed, but i have a f*cking beach ball of a kidney stone moving its way to my bladder and beyond.
I drank barium today. I have concluded that I do not rock hard.
I have been wanting to share this poem I wrote while drinking barium with everybody else:
Truth About Barium
There is no yum,
In Barium.
Rob Fletcher
Ps. Tough gig Isaac. I think you rock hard too. And Steve rocks hard, just because he actually drank the chalk-quid.
I broke my collar bone, aka clavicle. It hurt. It looked like this. I didn’t even get it fixed right away. I walked around for 20 minutes afterward, because I rock hard.
By the way, I was 11.