Biohazard Bus, Accidents and ‘Roid Rage?

What an adventurous day today turned out to be. Well, it was for me anyway. (If my life is boring to you, I’m not sure exactly why you’re still reading my blog, but to each his or her own.) Today was the day I had to pick up Stimpy’s medication. Nothing earth-shattering or anything, but a day unlike my usual days. My usual days involve nothing more than staring at my computer screen while my fingers tickle the ebonies (those piano lessons sure paid off – along with the hundreds of hours I’ve spent typing in my life).

Well, my first adventure began on my second bus – I got rid of my car when I could no longer depress the clutch pedal because of my hip injuries. It takes two buses to get to the vet’s office, but both are really quick rides. On the second bus a gentleman decided he needed to bleed all over everything. Apparently he had fallen somewhere, and there was a a big bruise on his face. Coupled with the bruise was the large cut on his hand that he apparently refused to cover with the napkins a friendly fellow passenger provided him with. He just went with the flow…of blood…all over the seat, the floor, his clothing, and the pole he decided to grip on his way off the bus.

He was an older gentleman, so maybe he didn’t stop to consider that blood-letting in public is more than a small concern. It’s a biohazard. Nobody wants to be touching the blood of a fellow human being these days. Free-flowing blood is a risk. Sure, it’s difficult to contract HIV if no one is actually excreting bodily fluids of some sort, but when someone has a river of it draining from their body the risk increases dramatically. We all get little cuts and scrapes on our bodiesthat we don’t even notice, and that would allow that sort of thing to enter out bloodstream.

Thankfully I was watching exactly where the blood was going, and when the gentleman left the bus, without even politely telling the driver that he’d made a bit of a mess ‘back there’, I took it upon myself to be the bearer of bloody tidings. So, I did my part for humanity and the prevention of possible disease communication today. The bus driver was so informed, and I was off the bus a couple of stops later. I felt okay with the world at this point, and would in fact have been dancing a bit had walking not precluded my ability to do so. I might be able to walk and chew gum, but if I’m ever going to get where it is that I’m going, well, the dancing has to wait. Especially if people assume I’m nuts and decide to cart me off to the funny farm. Chances are good at that point that I won’t be going anywhere but to a padded room.

I hadn’t even arrived at the vet’s when I saw an accident scene up ahead. The cops were there, as was an ambulance, and a flat-bed tow truck was arriving at the scene. Well, it was certainly an interesting development on my end, since I had to go to the trouble of asking the cops if it was okay for me cross the street since the whole intersection was taken up, but the person in the ambulance probably could have done with a lot less interest in their life, however. That had to suck the fun right out of the day for them. I’ve been in an ambulance a couple of times. Barely remember the trips considering the condition I was in, but I know it certainly wasn’t a level of interest that I wanted in my life.

I got Stimpy’s medication from the vet’s office, and was back outside and through the accident scene in no time. I hopped a bus, thinking I’d maybe go to the mall, but realized there was no way that was happening today. Not being on painkillers anymore means my trips are necessarily short ones. I can’t handle walking through a mall, shopping, and generally don’t have much of an interest in the process anyway. Instead I stopped at the dollar store to grab a few things and headed home in time so that my 2-hour bus transfer was still good. Got all the way there and back on a single bus ticket, so that made me rather cheerful, too. Sickening, isn’t it?

Medication and miscellany procured, I limped into the apartment to (gratefully) collapse in front of my laptop. Since Stimpy needs his meds twice a day, I figured 4 PM was a bad time to start giving it to him, and delayed the inevitable until 6 PM. Now, if you’ve ever had to give a syringe full of steroids to a ferret, you might understand when I say the Stimpy exhibited a rather quick ‘roid rage reaction to the dose. He simply didn’t want it in his mouth. I have to be strict about it, though, and so the scruffing was accomplished, as was the half-cc of ‘roid-containing fluid.

Real ‘roid rage actually is medically termed hypermania, and it’s a very scary thing to see in human beings. I saw it in my ex, a very large man, and if I never see it again it’ll be too soon. Stimpy was just pissed off that he was being forced to swallow something he didn’t like the taste of. ‘Roid rage from prednisone isn’t that common anyway, although aggression does tend to increase when you’re on it, and I have no idea if a ferret has ever experienced it. I know they experience something called cage rage, but that’s a psychological issue having to do with not wanting to be locked up for no good reason. I can hardly blame them. I’d be a little pissed off if I was falsely imprisoned, too.

Thankfully Stimpy was over his pissy mood pretty quickly and forbore any need to destroy the limited amount of furniture we have. Wish my ex had been as considerate with my hard-earned wages. That’s my sweet little boy, though. He wouldn’t hurt me to save his own life. No, instead he decided it was time to do his turkey thing…he gobble gobble gobbled for the first time all day.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.