Owieeeeee!!!!!!!

Sigh.  Seriously, I wanted to blog about Special Olympics and our fun time with Uncle Mark in Long Beach, and then this happens. 

6:00 am - Arrive at work. 
6:20 am - Give J, who always acts like he's starving even though we feed him and he's always food-seeking.
6:35 am - Give J his breakfast, which is a whole plate of food.  I watch that he eats slowly (or at least slower than usual) and get him water.
6:40 am - E, who had a "behavior" on Saturday night when I worked and apparently never snapped out of it (his roommate had to sleep on the couch last night), came out to eat breakfast, but there was no milk (1 more disappointment for him adding to his bad attitude).  He settled for Cheez-Itz, which isn't good for breakfast at all, but everyone's steering clear of him because all the other kids are around and he gets really agressive. 
6:45 am - I turn for a second to take J's dishes to the sink and come back in time to see J lunging for E's crackers and shoves some in his mouth.  I try to intervene and E screams and throws the bowl at me as I turn to (as a natural normal human in our society) apologize and make sure he's ok.  J runs away squealing.
6:46 am - %#@*!!!!!!!!!!!!! (well, not really, but it's what I wanted to say!) I ran to the laundry room where all the meds and first-aid stuff is because all I know is that I've all of a sudden got a splitting head ache and blood gushing out of the bridge of my nose and my right nostril.  Gross. 

Yup.  What a wonderful place to work!  But, I'm not a quitter, and I still do like it, believe it or not.  I probably won't go to work for the rest of this week, which is fine since my parents are coming on Wednesday.  The doctor says I can still work but my supervisor doesn't want me to because... things being thrown around... kind of a usual occurrence.  Crazy, huh? 

So I went to the urgent care with my supervisor around 8:30 am.  I had to wait for paperwork and what not, the usual... you know, when you're dying, you can't really get any help until 10 billion stacks of paperwork gets filled out.  But I wasn't dying.  So anyway, went to the clinic, got checked out, found out my nose was slightly broken.  Thank God that my nose didn't break to the side, it was pretty straight on, so it didn't need to be painfully reset.  The gash on my nose is right on bridge and is about 1/4 of an inch long.  Took 5 stitches to close it up.  Oh well... first time for everything.  My supervisor was with me the whole time and she seriously was 100 times more nervous than me about ME getting stitches, so she went outside.  What kept me calm and having a good attitude was definitely first and foremost God's love, comfort and strength.  Then I thought... billions of people had gotten stitches before me, I'm not the first nor do I have the worst case ever.  And hey, at least I could still feel, ya know?  And I've been in worse pain before.  And I personally know a bunch of people who are either currently or has recently been in way worse shape than me.  Haha, the doctor said "I take it you've never had children before..."  I didn't like him.  He didn't try to make me feel better and comfortable like all the other doctor's I dealt with in the past would have.  It's just such a weird event. 

So I'm taking antibiotics to battle potential infection and Tylenol Extra-Strength for the pain.  Yay.  Seriously, if my parents didn't know Dave, they'd think he was really beating me up... especially considering my accident in the Michigan snow a few years ago during Christmas Break which gave me a chipped clavicle (right side) and a fractured cheek bone resulting in a black eye.  There's something about me getting hurt right before I'm about to see my parents after being away from them for a long time.  I didn't tell Dave about it until I met up with him for lunch, and I finally started crying.  Not a lot, but enough to get it out of my system.  He hugged me... with his uniform on... and offered me all the brownies I wanted, haha.  (We have a box of double chocolatey brownie mix at home, and I used half of it to make brownie muffins last night since I had such a bad craving).   He told me I'd be more than fine with it if you want to quit, I really don't care about the job!!!  But we discussed it, and he likes my positive attitude and, seriously, some kind of injury, whether big or small was somewhat expected.  And this is part of something I'd like to do as a long-term career.  Well, in music therapy of course.  I just think it's funny that as a volunteer at Sounding Joy Music Therapy in Hawaii, I've gotten scars from scratches and pinches on my arm from a particular girl, and now I'm going to have a scar with E's name on it.  Who else wants a piece of me?!